


Loyalty, Divided

by IgnorantArmies



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: A Thief's End - Freeform, Baby Nate and Sam, Backstory, Brothers, Canon, Domestic Fluff, Drake's Deception, Drake's Fortune, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Papa Sully deals with his wayward boys, Pre-Canon, Protective Siblings, So much angst, Young Nate, Young Sam, Young Sully, among thieves - Freeform, angsty fluff, protective sully, teenage nate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-04-16 06:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 82,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14158872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IgnorantArmies/pseuds/IgnorantArmies
Summary: "I see great things in our future, kid. Great things..."Expanded backstory from Uncharted 3. Sully has a brand new apprentice, but hasn't factored in the fact that there's a second Drake brother to deal with...[This one follows on from a reference to Sam ending up in a Cartegenian jail inChapter 2 of 'To Baby Drake'- you might wanna read it first but it's not essential.]





	1. Six Months

“Let’s try this again,” Sully said, stretching his hand across the table. “Victor Sullivan. My friends call me Sully.”

The kid smiled a little at that. _Friends. Don't suppose he has a whole lot of 'em right now._

“Nathan Drake. Nate,” the boy replied.

Sully leaned back in his chair and brandished his cigar. “I see great things in our future, kid. Great things...”

***

He meant it, too. The kid knew his stuff. Translated Latin faster than Sully could read it, and moved like a whippet, even if his pickpocketing skills needed a little work. Sully didn't know quite what he felt for the kid yet – if ‘friends’ was something possible between a scrawny, half-wild teenager and a gnarly old sailor – but there was _something_ there. Respect between artists, perhaps. His prediction of 'great things' wasn’t hyperbole, either. There was a frighteningly determined tenacity in the kid’s eyes. And maybe Sully just wanted to be a part of that – something really special – something spectacular.

There was another layer of feeling there, too. Not pity, no, never that. Not sympathy, exactly, either. Instead, there was a kind of protective urge he’d never felt before. It had flickered into life the moment Marlowe had slapped the boy. Shock had given way to anger and anger had turned to outrage, deep down in Sully's soul. She'd crossed a line. You just didn’t hit a kid, no matter who you thought you were - or how much of a cocky little shit he was. That wasn't the worst of it, either. Her men had gone after him with a shoot-to-kill order and Sully couldn’t let that stand. And so, when he’d found the kid on the rooftop, gun wavering in his hands, clearly unable to take the shot that would have saved his life, Sully didn’t hesitate.

Sully had assumed that would have been enough to convince him – saving the boy’s life had placed him firmly on the opposite side to Marlowe and her men, and God knew he probably shouldn’t have even got involved – but the kid had trust issues so deeply-engrained he could barely see straight. Earning Nate's confidence was going to be an ongoing challenge.

“We need to get the hell out of this city,” Sully told him, as they checked into a tiny motel on the outskirts of town, “Ideally, off of this goddamn continent. Lay low for a while.”

Nate had his back to him, standing beside the bed, unpacking the few meagre belongings he carried in his backpack. Sully saw his shoulders tense and instantly knew he’d said the wrong thing.

“I know how to keep under the radar,” the kid mumbled non-committally. “You go if you want.”

Sully paused, carefully weighing his next words. “Marlowe will be looking for you. For us. She wants that ring. You know what she’s capable of. She’ll try to take it back.”

Nate’s hand drifted absently to the leather thong around his neck and closed his fingers around Francis Drake’s ring. He turned to glare at Sully with a fierceness only a teen could manage. “Let her try.”

“Kid…” Sully began, but the boy was already stuffing his things back into the bag.

“I’m not leaving Cartegena,” Nate snapped.

Sully was stunned into silence for a moment. “Why the hell would you wanna stick around?”

“I have… business here. I can't just leave.”

“Business? What kind of business?” An incredulous laugh escaped Sully’s throat and he regretted instantly as the kid’s eyes flashed with injured pride.

The kid hesitated, working out how to phrase it. “I’m… waiting for someone.”

_The goddamn plot thickens._

“Kid, you’re gonna have to move beyond the one-liners if we’re gonna have a proper conversation here. I thought we were partners.”

“I’ve already got a partner,” Nate snapped.

This, he hadn’t expected. Sully nodded slowly. “Okay. Well then. How ‘bout you introduce us and we'll talk it over together?”

The kid was all twisted up, Sully could tell. There was a kind of anguish engrained in his features as he fiddled with the strap on his backpack. “I can’t,” he said finally. “He’s… he’s in jail. For another six months.”

Sully let out a sigh. He’d had a feeling things would be more complicated than he'd anticipated. They always were. And he'd had a suspicion that Nate hadn't been working alone. There was no way the kid would have ended up out here without some kind of help - or some kind of blackmail, manipulation, or trouble. He wondered ominously who this ‘partner’ was, and if it was more trouble than it was worth to get all wrapped up in their 'business'.

“Right,” he said quietly. “And you want to be here when he gets out?”

Nate nodded, looking for all the world like a lost little kid. Sully's cynicism dropped down a notch.

“I owe him that,” the kid said under his breath.

"You wanna tell me who he is?" Sully asked, guessing what the answer would be.

The kid stared at the floor. _Too many questions._ Sully knew when to back off. He sighed, as if admitting defeat. 

“Alright, here's the deal," he said. "You give me those six months. Come with me, let me teach you as much as I can. That's plenty of time to dig up some dirt on Marlowe and that astrolabe and get back here in time to meet your ‘partner’ with some fresh leads, right? You wanna leave at any point, I won't stop you. But right now I'm your best bet at staying on the trail - hell, staying _alive_  - until then.”

He watched Nate mull it over. "Six months," the boy echoed uncertainly, "And then back to Cartegena?"

"Right."  _To meet this 'partner' of yours, whoever he may be..._

Nate gave a short nod and dropped his bag back onto the bed. "Alright then."

Sully hid his relief by lighting a cigar and blowing a long stream of smoke across the room. "Halle-goddamn-lujah," he said, shooting Nate a weary grin. "Is every discussion with you gonna be this much effort?"

The kid smirked. "Probably."

***

Day by day things got a little easier between them. Sully didn’t try to act like a parent or a teacher, though he couldn't help feeling responsible for the little street rat. He wordlessly picked up the tab for enough food to feed a small army, painfully aware of Nate’s skinny frame. The kid ate like a horse, or some half-starved stray dog, unconsciously curling his arm around his plate as if he was worried someone was going to whisk it away from him at any moment.

Sometimes, even as he was working his way through his own meal Nate would glance over at Sully’s with a kind of urgent longing. Whenever he noticed these little looks, Sully would push his plate away with a theatrical groan of satisfaction and lean back to light his cigar. “I’m done, kid, you want the rest?”

Nate’s eyes would light up and he’d drag Sully’s leftovers towards him with a nod, furiously chewing, as though he only had a short while to fill himself up. It nagged at Sully - how the hell had the boy ended up in a life like this? He was half-feral and yet more educated than most adults when it came to antiquities and history. The kid was a goddamn enigma, but charming in an almost irritating way. And every time Sully thought he'd had enough of this glorified babysitting job, Nate would surprise him, coming up with some ingenious solution or taking a risk so bold it was almost miraculous that they got out of there alive.

To be honest, Sully hadn't had this much fun in years. 

Nevertheless, there were secrets hanging over the kid like a dark cloud. This never-discussed partner of his. That glittering look in his eyes whenever he mentioned Drake. A white notebook that never left his side... Sully knew better than to pry, and Nate showed no sign of wanting to share, but it was clearly something important. Sully worried about what might be inside it. Sully worried, sometimes, if he'd made the right decision. If all this effort was worth it, only to have the boy snatched away from him when their six months was up...

At night, Sully would lay awake in the room next to Nate’s, wondering if the kid would even still be there in the morning. A couple of times he wasn't, and Sully would fret like a goddamn mother hen until he heard the telltale scuffling of feet on the balcony outside. It was as if an invisible weight melted off his shoulders when he saw Nate's scruffy head appear over the windowsill. Sully never asked where the kid had been, and Nate never told - they simply maintained a peaceable kind of cagey silence. Sully knew the kid walked a tightrope of broken trust; knew he had to move carefully and choose his words with caution if he didn’t want the boy to rabbit. 

And slowly but surely, the kid started to let his guard drop - knocking down those walls, one by one. It always happened during the quiet moments - the moments in between: crouched in darkness with bated breath on a stake out; hanging by their fingertips from a ledge; flying a couple of thousand feet in the air in Sully's plane with nothing to look at but the sea... And the kid would suddenly offer up a fleeting detail about his past: a shitty childhood in an orphanage, a passion for history passed down from his mother, the quest for Francis Drake's legacy, and some kind of skirmish in Cartegena that ended up with his partner getting locked up.

_Ah yes. His elusive 'partner'._

Whoever he was, his absence seemed to prey on Nate's mind, and every time they planned a new job the kid would scour the itinerary to make sure there was plenty of time to get back to Columbia afterwards. And, as the months flew past, Sully began to realise his days were numbered. Much as he hated to admit it, he liked having the kid around. Without him noticing, the cocksure kid with the ocean-coloured eyes had already carved a little niche into his calcified heart...

***

They'd been working together five months when Nate finally broke his silence on the subject. Maybe it was his partner's impending release date. Or maybe it was the adrenaline comedown after their latest ill-fated job, in which Nate had tumbled out of a first storey window onto a gravel driveway. Or maybe it was the fact that the kid had a few good slugs of whisky in him - an improvised anaesthetic for the stitches Sully was about to administer. Or maybe they'd just finally reached a point of mutual trust. Whatever the reason, Sully wasn't about to question it.

He didn't quite catch the first mumble that came out of Nate's mouth as he sat the kid down on a chair he'd pulled into the motel bathroom. Nate was shivering with shock and the words came out in a stutter - a garble of ems and esses. Sully paused for a moment to stare at the boy critically - a grazed cheek, a quickly developing black eye, and a nasty gash just above his hairline. The head wound had bled a lot - as head wounds do - and the right side of Nate's shirt was soaked through with blood. A little twinge of protective anxiety tugged at Sully's guts. He shouldn't have got him into this mess. Kids his age should be hanging out with their friends, sneaking into movies and getting their first kiss, not dodging armed museum guards and smashing through windows.

"What was that, kid?" Sully asked, gently pressing a wet cloth against the cut and wincing in sympathy with the boy.

Nate gave a grunt of discomfort, "'S name's Sam," he slurred, looking up at Sully with pain-glazed eyes. "My partner. His name's Sam."

Sully nodded slowly. "Sam. Okay."  _Don't make a big deal out of it. Don't push too hard._  He gave a casual shrug."Can't wait to meet him."

The kid attempted a smile but it dropped straight off his face as Sully pulled a curved needle out of the medical kit. 

"Hey, if you're gonna throw up, aim it that way," Sully growled, seeing the boy's expression and jerking a thumb at the basin beside them. Nate grinned sheepishly. Sully busied himself with prepping the suture equipment, trying to hide the shaking of his own hands. He'd stitched up plenty of wounds before, but never on a fifteen-year-old kid. He felt nauseous himself but swallowed thickly, plastering on a confident smirk.

"Ready, kid?" he said. 

Nate took another swig of whisky and clenched his jaw, blinking away the water in his eyes. "Sure," he said, but his voice was far from steady and his hands gripped his knees until the knuckles turned white.

_Distract him. Keep him talking so he doesn't pass out._

"So... Tell me about Sam," Sully said, turning Nate's head to the side so he could see the gash better. "How long have you known him?"

"My whole life," the kid replied with a funny kind of smile.

Sully took the opportunity to insert the first stitch and Nate barely flinched. "That long, huh? How'd you meet?"

 _One stitch down._ Sully paused to breathe. Causing the kid pain was about as low on his list of favourite things as you could get. He tried to ignore the blood on his fingers and lined up the needle for the next one.

"He's my - ow - he's my brother."

Sully froze.  _Another Drake? Jesus Christ. One is plenty._

"You got a brother?" he said, unable to keep the surprise off his face.

Nate nodded guiltily. "Sorry I never told you."

Sully shook his head, "Hey, that's your business. I figured you two were close but... Well, we all have secrets."

The kid looked grateful at that, even when Sully bent back over his work and stuck him with two more stitches in quick succession. The cut was deep but thankfully short.  _Couple more'll do it.._

"Drake's treasure. We were meant to find it together," Nate continued, barely aware of the needle now, eyes unfocused, staring blankly at the back wall.

"Well, you got something pretty special to show him when he gets out, huh?" Sully said, pointing at the ring strung around the kid's neck.

Nate didn't seem to hear him, and tears gathered in his eyes. "It was my fault," he said in a whisper. "He's in there 'cause of me."

Sully didn't know what to say. He finished the stitches and swabbed the worst of the blood out of the boy's hair with the cloth. Nate was starting to sway on his seat and had gone unnaturally pale. 

"Hey. Nate? You okay?" Sully said sharply, placing a hand on the boy's uninjured cheek.

Nate leaned into his palm to keep himself upright, his eyes half closing.

Sully caught him as he fell sideways, scooping him up like a baby - one arm around his shoulders, one beneath his knees - and carried him back through to the bedroom. Nate let out a tired sigh as Sully set him down on the nearest bed and yanked off his sneakers. Sully sat heavily on the side of the bed and watched the kid's eyelids flicker. The after-effects of the adrenaline rush were starting to hit him, too, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he was sure Nate was okay.

"I miss him..." Nate slurred, curling into a foetal position. He looked terribly small all of a sudden.

Sully tucked a blanket around the boy and laid a hand on his shoulder, reassured by the steady rise and fall of his breath. "I'm sure he misses you too," he whispered. And the realisation that he might only have a month left with the kid turned his blood cold. As much as he trusted Nate's judgement, he had no idea what to expect from his brother when he got out of prison. And he wasn't sure he was ready to give the kid up without a fight.

Nate's breathing deepened the closer he came to unconsciousness. "Sam? I'm sorry..." was the last thing he said before he passed out completely, and Sully was left with a lump in his throat.

 


	2. The Other Drake

Sully had been dreading this day.

Once Nate had started opening up about his brother and their past, a lot of unanswered questions Sully had about the kid suddenly made sense. He listened when Nate wanted to talk and never pushed the issue if he didn’t, but piece by piece a fractured sense of the kid’s history began to unfold and Sam was always there, front and centre. There was a part of Sully that was almost… jealous. Which was stupid, of course. He’d only known the kid for six months and Sam was _family_ but Sully knew all too well that blood wasn’t always thicker than water. He just hoped Sam was everything Nate had built him up to be. Prison could change a person. And from what he’d heard already, Sam was something of a wildcard.

And now the day had arrived and Sully had kept his promise – the promise Nate’s trust hinged upon - to bring him back to Cartegena in time for Sam’s release date.

Nate had barely spoken during the journey from the airport to the jail. He kept his hands in his lap, picking at a hangnail on his thumb and staring out at the landscape with a blank stare, his lips twitching every so often as if he was rehearsing a speech in his head.

“Hey,” Sully said, at last, as the huge concrete sprawl of the prison came into view, “You ready, kid?”

Nate glanced at him with wide, anxious eyes. He was almost sixteen but still had the ability to look like a kicked puppy when he forgot to put on his tough guy face. Sully knew the kid was worried about seeing his brother again. He knew Nate blamed himself for his brother going to prison in the first place, but had no idea what Sam’s perspective of the situation would be. From what Sully could glean from the few details Nate had given him, Sam had taken the fall for a shoddy bit of thievery that turned into a street brawl. The guilt had been gnawing away at Nate all this time, and Sam’d had nine long months to figure out where _he_ thought the blame should fall. And now, if Sully knew Nate half as well as he thought the did, the kid was worried Sam would emerge full of bitterness.

If he was honest, Sully was worried, too. It had only been half a year but faced with the prospect of losing Nate, he suddenly couldn’t imagine life without his little partner. He certainly hadn’t factored in a _second_ kid. Could Sully handle two of them? A twenty-year-old fresh out of a Colombian prison was a different matter entirely... And what if Sam was trouble? What if he wanted to take Nate away? What could Sully possibly do to stop him? Sam certainly had more of a claim over the boy than Sully. 

He looked over at Nate, who was chewing on his lip, his eyes fixed on the looming building ahead of them, and suddenly Sully’s concerns didn’t mean squat. The kid clearly idolised his brother, and if Sully really cared about Nate then he’d have to give Sam the benefit of the doubt.

“Look,” Sully said, parking up at the side of the road a hundred yards from the entrance and resting an arm across the back of the kid’s seat. “I know you’re nervous, kid. But he’s still gonna be the same old Sam you knew nine months ago.”

_Or is he? Prison can change a person…_

Sully ignored the inner commentary and cleared his throat. “He just might need a little time to… process what he’s been through in there, okay? So don’t rush him. Give him space.”

Nate nodded slowly, then gave a weak smile. “You’re gonna like him, Sully. I promise.”

Sully smirked, “If he’s half as much of a pain in the ass as you are, I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

“Oh, he’s worse,” Nate said, a little of his usual bravado back. 

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Nate grinned. Sully gave his shoulder a gentle push. “Go on, he’ll be coming out any minute now.”

Sully hung back by the car as the prison gates rolled open and Nate went running down the dirt track to greet the hunched figure that emerged, blinking, into the midday sun. He watched as Nate came to a tentative stop a few paces away, then all but threw himself at his brother, and the two of them staggered about as the hug descended into a kind of sibling wrestling match. The two boys made their way to the car, shooting disbelieving grins at one another, occasionally exchanging play-fight punches and feints, pausing every so often to converse in hurried whispers. Nine months to catch up on; a lifetime of shared secrets.

As they came closer, Sully’s throat tightened at the sheer glee on Nate’s face. The kid had practically lit up with excitement, and was bouncing on the balls of his feet at his brother’s side like a lanky, uncoordinated Labrador. Sully had never seen the kid so happy.

Beside him, his brother walked slowly, eking out the journey to the car as if he never wanted it to end. 

 _So, this is Sam._  

The new kid was tall – taller than both Nate and Sully – and kinda skinny, with still a little broadening of the shoulders to come. But there was muscle there, too - the wiry kind. The kind that took you by surprise. He was a little underfed, a little wild around the eyes, but the Drake resemblance was clear as day. And the way he looked at Nate – like he was trying to drink in every detail of his little brother’s face with a smile that wouldn’t quit – well, you couldn’t fake that. An invisible scoreboard in Sully’s mind chalked up one point on Sam’s good side.

Sully leaned against the hood of the car, toying with an unlit cigar, aiming for an air of unthreatening, casual friendliness. He was all too aware that his first impression needed to count if he was going to pass the unspoken test ahead of him. Or lose Nate forever.

By the time the brothers reached the car, Sam had Nate in a headlock and Nate was unsuccessfully trying to break the hold, arms flailing wildly.

“Gotta work on that weak left hook, little brother!” Sam teased, dodging a jab to his kidneys as Nate struggled to free himself. But when he saw Sully he let go of his brother and straightened up to his full height, like a cat trying to make itself look as big and imposing as possible. Sully gave him a polite nod and held out his hand.

“Victor Sullivan. I’m a friend of Nate’s.”

Sam stared at the offered hand for a moment and then back up at Sully’s eyes. Both of them wore poker faces, waiting for the other one to break and give away a hint of how things were likely to go. Nate scrambled up behind Sam, rearranging his messed-up hair, and looked nervously between them. Sam glanced sideways at his little brother and reluctantly took Sully’s hand.

“I’m guessing you already know who I am,” he said flatly.

Sully smiled benignly, “I’ve heard a coupla stories.”

Sam’s eyes bored into him, his expression as flat and unreadable as a stone. “I haven’t heard shit about you.”

“Sam,” Nate cut in tentatively, “He’s a friend. Trust me.”

Sam let his hand drop and climbed into the backseat of the car without another word. Nate avoided Sully’s eyes and scooted around to the other side. Sully gave a sigh.

_Well, it’s a start..._

***

The whispering continued on their journey to the safehouse. Every time Sully looked in the rearview mirror the boys had their heads together, conversing at a hundred miles an hour, communicating just as much with their eyes as their words. It had been difficult to get messages in or out of the prison, and judging by Sam’s reaction, Sully assumed Nate's brother knew little to nothing about who the hell Sully was or why he was with Nate. He could well understand Sam’s reticence - what was a forty-something conman doing with a fifteen-year-old kid? If he were Sam, he wouldn’t trust him either.

When he looked back again, Sam was poking Nate in the chest with a smirk. “So when’re you gonna start growin’, huh? I thought you’d be six feet tall by the time I got out.”

“Hey, I’ve grown!” Nate protested. “And I’ve learned some new tricks, too,” he added, nodding towards Sully.

Sam’s smile faded. “I can see that. Got yourself a chauffeur, too.”

Sully decided not to take it as an insult and gave a snort of a laugh. “Yeah, just bear in mind I charge by the mile.”

“Where’re we headed, anyway?” Sam said, more to Nate than Sully.

“We’ve got a place out of town,” his little brother explained, his voice getting faster and faster as he gained momentum. “Our own place, not a motel. So we can start making a new plan, and then Sully said he’d take us wherever we wanna go – he’s got a plane and everything. He used to be in the navy.”

Sam nodded slowly and Nate stumbled into an uncertain silence, watching his response, afraid to put a foot wrong.

“Thought you could do with a little time and space to readjust,” Sully said, when it was clear Sam wasn't going to make a comment. “The first few weeks out back on the outside are the worst.”

Sully had been in and out of prison enough to know how strange it felt to be released - thrown out into the world with nothing more than the clothes on your back – and made a mental note to give Sam a little leeway until he got over the initial shock.

But Sam ignored the attempt at connection, digging around in his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

“Wait? You smoke now?!” Nate said, as Sam rolled down the window and lit up.

Sam snorted a trail of smoke out of his nose in amusement at his brother's shocked expression.

Nate gave him an unimpressed grimace. “Since when?”

Sam shrugged. “Since cigarettes became currency,” he replied offhandedly, but Sully could see a tight look in his eyes. He guessed the last nine months had been tougher on him than he made out.

Their eyes met in the mirror and Sam jerked his chin upward a little in defiance. _Aaand that’s where Nate gets all his cocky swagger from._

“So. What’s your angle, _Sullivan_?” Sam asked him, with unnecessary emphasis on his name, as if he suspected it was an alias.

Sully shot him his mildest smile, “No angle. Kid and I have been working together for the last six months, that’s all. He’s a great entryman. Needs to work on his lifting technique but boy’s got promise. Thought he could do with a little guidance.”

“Right,” Sam said quietly, before the sarcasm took over, “And you’ve been helping him out of the goodness of your heart, is that right?”

Nate shifted awkwardly on his seat. “Sam... He’s a good guy,” he muttered under his breath, “I told you that already.”

Sam’s piercing gaze shifted to his little brother and Sully could read the look that passed between them clear as day. Questions no one ever wanted to ask a kid: _Did he hurt you? Did he touch you? Did he-?_

But Nate was already shaking his head vehemently, trying to find the words. “Sully’s my friend,” he said at last, looking almost embarrassed at the word, and Sully felt a warmth spread out over his heart. “He got me out of trouble,” the kid continued, more firmly now, “And he’s been helping… you know, with our _research_.”

Sam’s eyes widened incredulously. “You told him? About- You _told_ him?”

Sully winced at the hurt in Sam’s voice. If Francis Drake’s legacy meant as much to Sam as it did to Nate, of course he wouldn’t exactly be pleased to hear Sully had been muscling in on it.

“Jesus, Nathan…” Sam sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair and slumping back against his seat. “What else you tell him?”

Nate looked downcast for a second, then a glint appeared in his eye. “Yeah, well, without Sully, I wouldn’t have got _this_ ,” he proclaimed triumphantly, and fished out the ring strung around his neck.

Sam leaned closer and Nate slipped the leather cord over his head and held it out to his brother.

“Drake’s ring,” Sam said, in a reverent whisper. The same hungry look that glittered in Nate’s eyes whenever he talked about Drake was reflected in Sam’s; an innocent kind of awe that made them both look much younger. Like real kids playing at adventure.

Sam let out a shaky laugh as Nate dropped the ring into his outstretched hand. “Is it… is it real?”

Nate scoffed. “' _Is it real?_ ' What do you think? Of course it’s real. And that’s not all-”

Sully returned his focus to the road as Nate told his brother about the astrolabe, about Marlowe, about pickpocketing Sully (Sam gave a barking laugh at that part), and escaping - by the skin of his teeth - with the ring. The story filled up the rest of the journey from the prison to their rental apartment and by the time Sully pulled up at the squat little bungalow both boys were grinning wildly, flushed with renewed faith in their crazy quest.

Sully tossed Nate the keys to the place as the kid scrambled out of the backseat, eager to show off their temporary home to his brother. “We’ve gotta share a room but there are two beds - you can pick which one you want,” Nate garbled, and Sully’s chest tightened with affection. Sometimes he forgot the kid was just a kid. And the way he lost all of his usual bold poise around his brother was almost painfully sweet.

Sam seemed to think so too, smirking at Nate’s overexcited expression, then nodded pointedly back at Sully who was unpacking a load of groceries from the trunk of the car. “Why don't we help the old man out first, huh?” he said, taking a bag in each hand.

“Less of the ‘old’ if you don’t mind,” Sully grumbled, but made a mental note that Sam’s first instinct was to pitch in and earn his keep.  _Another point to Drake Senior._

Once the groceries had all been dumped on the counter, Nate disappeared into the bedroom to fetch his journal and Sam stood awkwardly in the middle of the open plan living area, shoulders hunched, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes darting around as if he half expected a prison guard to appear from behind the couch and tell him to get back in his cell. Sully knew that feeling all too well. He broke the silence with a yawn and a stretch that popped his spine.

“So, Sam,” he said, “What’s first? A shower? A decent meal? A beer? Or you just wanna crash out and sleep for a week?”

“Sleep sounds pretty good...” A shy smile that reminded Sully of Nate twitched at the corner of Sam’s mouth, “But not much chance of that with the mood Nathan’s in.”

Sully chuckled. “He’ll wind down eventually.”

Sam nodded, an uncomfortable look crossing his face, as if he didn’t like the fact that Sully was so familiar with his little brother. He shrugged at the pile of food on the counter. “I could eat, I guess.” 

Sully wondered how long it had been since Sam had eaten a proper meal. Prison food didn’t count, and by the state Nate had been in when they’d met, he guessed the pair of them hadn’t exactly dined like kings before Sam went to jail. He slapped his hands together and started sorting through the shopping bags. “Alright then. I reckon I can rustle up something edible if you give me half an hour.”

Sam eyes softened in gratitude and he gave a mumbled “thanks” as Nate came barrelling out of the nearest bedroom with his research journal held aloft.

“You gotta see this, Sam,” the kid panted, dragging his brother over to the couch where they resumed their Siamese twin act of hushed whispers, poring over Nathan's latest journal entries.

Sully turned back to the stove and allowed himself a private smile. _Like peas in a goddamn pod._ Maybe this wasn’t so bad, he thought. Maybe Sam would turn out to be just like Nate. And maybe he had room for another Drake under his wing.


	3. Lucky

A good, simple meal seemed to do Sam the world of good. Nate had been talking non-stop about his Francis Drake hypotheses for the past hour, pausing only briefly when Sully set down a plate down in front of him, and then talking  _around_ his food as much as possible without choking. Sam let the kid motor-mouth with a mild, affectionate smile - occasionally interjecting with a question or correction. The elder Drake brother seemed to be just as knowledgeable as Nate, and Sully noticed that Sam never passed up an opportunity to test his little brother on dates, locations, or details, as if the two of them were engaged in a never-ending pop quiz.

 _Unlike_ his brother, who was still growing like a weed and managed to clear his plate in the space of five minutes, Sam picked at his food. He seemed distracted and uncomfortable in his new surroundings, and the weight of tiredness was beginning to show at the corners of his eyes. As welcome as Nate’s bombardment of enthusiasm was, no doubt, Sully guessed that Sam was feeling somewhat overwhelmed to be back in the world.

_Maybe a little normality’s what he needs._

Sully dumped his plate in the sink and tossed a dish cloth at Nate’s head, cutting him off mid-way through a rant about Drake’s possible route through the East Indies.

“Hey!” Nate swiped the towel away and glared at his partner.

Sully made a grand sweeping gesture towards the kitchen. “You know the rules,” he said, “If you don't cook, you do the dishes.”

Nate let out a peak-teenage groan but hauled himself off the sofa obediently and started running the tap.

Sam watched him with an amused smile. “You got him trained up good,” he commented.

“Can’t give him an inch,” said Sully with a wink. 

Sam snapped the dish cloth after his brother, catching him on the back of the leg and making him yelp. “Yeah, he’s getting cocky in his old age.”

“Can’t imagine where he gets it from….” Sully muttered.

The two men shared a look – not quite a full smile but something approaching understanding. Nate, however, scowled at them both. “I’m right here you know.”

Sam scooped up their plates and gave his brother a little shove with his foot. “Go on. You wash, I’ll dry,” he said.       

Sully took the opportunity to slip out the back door to the yard and enjoy a cigar in the afternoon sun, but the screen door didn’t quite close properly and he couldn’t help but overhear the hushed conversation that passed between the boys as they stood at the sink.

It wasn’t eavesdropping as such, he told himself. More like… supervision. He guessed the boys needed some time to themselves to talk about all the things they couldn’t discuss in front of him, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t in his best interests – or, more importantly, Nate’s best interests – for Sully to get a hint of what those things were.

After a brief silence, broken only by the clinking of cutlery and pans, Nate’s voice came out slow and uncertain.

“So… What was it like? In prison?”

There was a long pause, and when he replied, Sam sounded like he was trying a little too hard to play it casual. “Oh, you know. Not so bad once you get used to it. I was in the low security wing - petty crimes mostly, not murderers or psychos. Mostly I just tried to keep my head down, stay out of trouble.”

Nate snorted. “You? Stay out of trouble?”

Sully could hear the smirk in Sam’s next words, “Well… Mostly.”

Another pause. And the sounds of washing up stopped entirely. “Sam? I- I’m really sorry.”

“What the hell for?” Sam seemed genuinely surprised and Sully’s heart clenched at all that guilt Nate had been carrying around.

“For messing it all up,” the kid said, as if it was obvious. “I didn’t mean for us to get caught. For you to- It was all my fault. And I’m sorry, okay?”

Sam’s voice had a ragged edge to it when he spoke again, “None of this is your fault, little brother. _None of it_. We’ve been lucky this far but, look, it was gonna happen eventually. And… rather me than you. It’s my job to keep you safe, okay?”

Nate didn’t reply. Sully could imagine the look on the kid’s face. The kind of look that punches you right in the chest.

“Hey,” Sam continued, more firmly now, “I’m here now. I’m out. We’re back together. That’s all that matters.”

“Was it… scary in there?” Nate asked in a small voice.

Sully heard Sam sigh and realised he’d been holding his breath. A flush of guilt passed through him. He shouldn’t be listening to their conversation, he knew, but his curiosity was stronger than his morals. He had his ear up to the screen door now, cigar all but forgotten.

“Sometimes,” Sam said at last, and gave a half-hearted laugh. “I got beat up plenty. Other inmates, guards – you never know who you’re accidentally gonna piss off next. But there were good guys too. Useful guys. In fact, a couple who might even be able to help us out…”

_Oh, no, no. What’s he got mixed up in now?_

A sixth sense for danger tugged at Sully’s primal brain and he couldn’t help himself. He peered through the gap to see Sam pulling a scrap of paper out of his pocket. “Look, one of them gave me an address-”

Sully leaned too far. The screen door squeaked suddenly and he had to stop himself falling into the room. He straightened up quickly, tossed his cigar into the bushes and made out like he’d meant to head back in all along. _Play it casual_.

As he strode back into the kitchen Sam hurriedly stuffed the paper away and Sully raised an accusing eyebrow at the pile of dishes still stacked on the counter. “You made _any_ progress with that yet, or are you still busy planning your next Drake voyage?” he asked.

Nate rolled his eyes and turned back to the sink but Sam wasn’t so easy to fool. He eyed Sully for a moment too long to be comfortable and Sully was the first to look away.

***

Half an hour later, Sam headed to the bathroom for a shower and Nate sat sketching idly in his journal, a furrowed frown on his face. 

Sully watched him as the boy drew sharp, angry lines across the paper. “Hey. You okay, kid?”

Nate grunted in response.

Sully sighed. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Nate scribbled angrily at the page he’d been working on then ripped it out completely and tossed it on the floor. “I’m not a kid,” he snapped, out of nowhere.

Sully held his tongue and waited for whatever was bubbling inside Nate to erupt. Which it did.

“I’m not an idiot, either,” the kid muttered.

“Never said you were,” Sully said.

“He acts like it’s nothing,” Nate continued, staring furiously at his notebook. “Like it’s all just a big game. He always does this. Like I won’t notice when things get serious. And he won’t ever tell me about the really bad stuff. He just... hides it all away.”

“Maybe he’s trying to protect you,” Sully tried gently. _God knows there’s things I’ll never tell you, kid._

“Well, maybe _I_ should get to protect _him_ sometimes!” Nate’s voice broke a little bit at that, and Sully gave him a moment to collect himself before he spoke again.

“Look. Your brother… He’s had it tough. You both have.” Sully wanted to reach out and lay a comforting hand on the kid’s shoulder but they’d never quite broken the boundaries of affectionate physical contact. He let out a long breath instead. “Just… Give him time.”

Nate turned to a fresh page and poised his pencil over it. “He thinks he knows what’s best for me,” he said, almost in a whisper. “But he doesn’t.” 

Sully didn’t contradict him. He didn’t pretend to know what was best for the kid either but he knew the crushing weight of responsibility that Sam must be dealing with. But he also knew how much Nate needed his freedom; needed to prove himself. He couldn’t take both sides.

 _And three’s a crowd_ , he thought. _Sooner or later, one of us is gonna get pushed out._

***

Sam emerged from the shower twenty minutes later with a towel wrapped around his waist and his dusty old clothes bundled up in his arms, looking like a new man. The exhaustion that had given him such a strained look had been washed away and his eyes were brighter and more alert. Sully had been right about the muscle hiding underneath those ill-fitting clothes, too – Sam was lean but defined, and there wasn’t a scrap of spare fat on him. His skin was tanned from hours in the rec yard under the Columbian sun and fresh ink stood out on his arm.

Nate looked up from his journal and gaped. “You got a _tattoo_?”

Sam gave a sheepish grin and glanced down at his left shoulder where a fan of aces sat above a banner that read ‘lucky’. He slapped the tattoo affectionately and shrugged. “Made a name for myself playing cards, what can I say?”

Nate scoffed disbelievingly. “Yeah, or maybe it’s ironic because you can’t bluff for shit.”

“Lucky, huh?” Sully said, shaking his head. “You’re not wrong. How you two keep landing on your feet I don’t know…”

Sam shuffled awkwardly under the scrutiny and hoisted the bundle of dirty clothes. “I… uh, need to do some laundry.”

“Oh, we got you some new stuff,” Nate piped up, grabbing a duffel bag from beside the sofa and throwing it to his brother.

“Had to guess your size,” Sully explained, “But it’ll do for now.”

For a moment Sam looked bewildered but then that same guarded expression came slamming down once more. He unzipped the bag and picked through the clothes carefully before nodding once and fixing Sully with a flat stare. “What do I owe you?”

Sully barked out an incredulous laugh. “Don’t worry about it. This one’s on me.”

“No,” Sam said slowly, and repeated the question in a dangerous kind of voice, “What do I owe you? The clothes. This place. Picking me up this morning. Keeping an eye on Nathan. All of it. Pick a figure and I’ll square it up with you. I don’t need any more debt.” 

The sudden tension in the air was palpable. Nate looked horrified. Sully chose his words carefully. “You’re not in jail any more, Sam,” he said calmly, “No more trades or bartering. Sometimes… friends just help each other out.” 

Sam hadn’t taken his eyes off the older man. “You’re not my friend. I don’t even know you.”

Sully held onto his temper. But only just.

 _So the big kid’s got a little attitude, that’s only to be expected._ _Just gotta keep chipping away until he realises you’re not the enemy._

“Partners then,” Sully said, spreading his arms wide. “Or colleagues. Acquaintances. Whatever you want to call it. But you don’t owe me squat. Alright?”

Sam’s lips twisted in a humourless smile. “No such thing as a free lunch, Victor.”

Sully let out an exasperated noise and the last thread of his patience snapped. “You don’t want the clothes? Fine. Wash your old ones in the sink. You wanna pay me back for the ride and the rental? Take it out of the next job. Or buy me a goddamn drink sometime. But you can quit with the dramatics, Sam, I get plenty enough of those with your brother, okay?”

For once, Sam didn’t answer back. Nate was watching him hopefully. After a long, terse moment he nodded shortly. “Okay,” he said quietly. Then, almost as if it pained him to say it, “Thank you.”

He disappeared back into the bedroom to get changed and returned a few minutes later dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth and a slightly cowed expression on his face. Nate shuffled up on the couch so he could sit down and punched him on the arm a bit harder than usual.

“Speaking of drinks,” Sully said, getting up to grab a six pack from the fridge. “Bet you haven’t had one of these in nine months.”

He tossed Sam a bottle and set the rest on the coffee table, magically producing a pack of cards from his pocket with a sly smile. “Now how ‘bout we test out that lucky streak of yours, huh?”

***

When they got bored of poker and the beer ran out they started on the scotch, and the conversation got a little easier, a little looser. Nate started telling stories about the brothers’ escapades in the boys’ home and Sully re-told his favourite navy tales for Sam’s benefit, even though Nate had heard them all a million times already. Sam even offered up a couple of incidents from his time inside – mostly involving him cheating some poor sap out of his stash of cigarettes. It was almost...  _relaxed_.

It was long past midnight when Nate finally crashed out on the couch with his feet up on his brother’s lap and his arms curled around a cushion. Sam and Sully smoked in silence for a while – one of those in-between moments – both of them too comfortable to get up and go to bed but too tired to stay up much longer. Finally, Sam broke the silence, tapping the end of his cigarette into the ashtray that sat on the coffee table between them.

“Thank you,” Sam said softly, nodding at his sleeping brother. “For looking out for him all this time. Can’t have been easy.” 

Sully shrugged. He appreciated how much pride Sam must have had to swallow to say it. “My pleasure.”

Sam’s brow crinkled as he watched Nate burrow deeper into the couch cushions. He shook his head, suddenly angry at himself for some reason. “Nine months…" he murmured. "It was like torture, not knowing if he was okay. I’m glad he had you around but… I should’ve been there.”

If he was honest, Sully dreaded to think how things might have turned out if both Drake brothers had come face to face with Marlowe and her gang of gun-toting suits but he didn’t vocalise the thought.

“We’re all just doin’ our best,” he said instead, and was rewarded with an appreciative nod. “And you gotta give the kid a little credit,” Sully added, remembering Nate’s fury at being treated like a child. “I might have only known him six months but Nate can hold his own. And I reckon he was doin’ pretty well without me.”

Sam glanced up at him, a slightly wounded expression on his face that he tried to mask with a smile. “He seems to think you’re pretty great.”

Sully couldn’t tell if it was a compliment or a challenge. He chose the latter.

“Look, I get it,” Sully said with a sigh, “You’re right. You don’t know me from Adam. You don’t trust me. And to be honest I don’t really trust you all that much. Not yet, anyway. Trust has to be earned, on both sides. But we already have one thing in common.” He looked down at the kid, eyelids flickering with dreams of adventure. The memory of stitching him up in a motel bathroom came lurching into his head. The boy’s blood on his hands. The fear in his eyes. Sully swallowed. “We both care what happens to Nate,” he said. “Can we agree on that and start from there?” 

But Sam was already shrugging, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “The only person I trust is Nathan,” he said quietly. “You seem like a decent guy. And I appreciate… everything,” Sam waved his cigarette vaguely, “But it’s always just been him and me.” 

_The two of you against the world, huh? Heard that one before._

“No offence,” Sam added, almost apologetically.

Sully chewed on his cigar. “None taken.”

And that seemed to put an end to it. Sam stubbed out his cigarette, extricated himself from the couch and draped a blanket over his little brother with one last look at Sully as he headed to bed.

“G’night, Victor.”

Sully could feel his grip on the kid slipping away. A kind of desperation clawed itself to the surface of his brain. “Hey,” he said, as Sam reached the doorway. Sam didn’t turn around but paused, one hand on the handle, his back to Sully.

“I’ve been in this game a long time, Sam," Sully said. "It isn't always easy. But it also doesn’t hurt to have a friend or two.”

He watched Sam take a breath and let it out again, his shoulders slumping.

“Night, Victor,” Sam repeated wearily.

And Sully was left alone in the lamplight, listening to the sound of Nate breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okaaay so this chapter was meant to end up with a *Big Confrontation* but I couldn't help stretching it out with just a leeetle bit more angst (and didn't want it to tip over 3k). SORRYNOTSORRY. More to come, I promise, and the shit's really gonna hit the fan soon...


	4. Sic Parvis Magna

* * *

Sully woke to the sound of voices which was immediately strange, because usually _he_ was the first one up and Nate had never been a morning person, needing at least an hour before he was capable of even semi-coherent conversation.

Sully dragged himself out of bed, regretting that fourth (or was it fifth?) scotch with every fibre of his being. He’d slept badly – the combination of worry and alcohol filling his head with ‘what ifs’ and a million ways he could have handled the previous evening’s awkward conversations with Sam better. 

He could hear the boys laughing and joking in the kitchen, and the smell of frying bacon made his stomach grumble.

_Well, it's a brand new day. Let’s hope it’s better than yesterday._

When Sully shuffled his way through to the living area Nate smirked at the sight of his hangover and passed him a plate. “Your turn to wash up, old man,” the kid quipped.

Sully took a seat at the kitchen table with a tired groan. “And when’s Sam gonna take a turn?”

“I made coffee,” Sam replied, handing him a cup.

Sully grunted his appreciation. _Not bad. Could get used to this._

The boys had already eaten and they left him to his food - Sam headed out into the yard for a smoke and Nate trailed after him, the mysterious white journal clutched to his chest.

 _They’re planning something_ , Sully thought. Nate’s notes on Drake were spread out across the coffee table and Sully wondered how long the two of them had been up, scheming without him. Anxiety gnawed at him and he couldn’t finish his food.

When the brothers came back in Sully was hunched on the sofa chewing on a cigar and nursing his second coffee as he sorted through the research papers.

“So,” he said, “No rest for the wicked, huh? You already planning our next move?”

Nate and Sam exchanged a look but neither of them responded.

_Okay. That’s not good._

Sully pretended not to have noticed the awkwardness and forged onward, addressing Sam directly this time. “Nate’s probably already told you but we’ve lost all trace of Marlowe. Looks like she’s gone to ground, licking her wounds after Nate walked off with Drake’s ring.” He smiled at the kid. He still felt a burning pride for how Nate had stood up to Katherine that day. Nate fiddled with the pendant around his neck but didn’t meet Sully’s eyes.

“So... The way I see it we have two options,” Sully continued. “Bets are, Marlowe’s gone back to London. Now, we can follow her – go after that astrolabe thing again – or follow our own trail. Nate found some kind of code engraved inside the ring-”

But Sam cut him off with a shake of his head, snatching the piece of paper out of Sully’s hand. “Look, Victor. I appreciate you helping Nathan on this but…” he hesitated, glancing up at his little brother with something like guilt in his eye, “…this one’s ours.” 

_And there it is. Can’t pretend you didn’t know this was coming._

Sully kept his cool. He turned from Sam to Nate. “You’ve decided then? Both of you?” He didn’t want to twist the kid’s loyalties up but he could tell Nate wasn’t fully on board with this new plan.

“He can help us, Sam,” the kid said tentatively, and a flood of relief almost made Sully laugh out loud.

“Yeah?” Sam replied, scathingly. “You wanna split it three ways? We've been working on this for _years_.”

“Seems only fair,” Sully said, “Kid and I have done a lot of ground work while you’ve been away.” It was a cheap shot but Sully was almost past caring.

“And then what?” Sam said viciously, and pointed at the white journal in Nate’s hands. “This is _our_ legacy, Nathan. You and me. It always has been. It’s _family_. And now you wanna bring in some old man you’ve only known a few months?”

“Less of the ‘old’,” Sully murmured, reflexively.

Nate fidgeted under Sam’s stare. “Sully can help,” he said again, more firmly this time. “He knows what he’s doing. He’s got a plane – he can take us anywhere, no more sneaking around and hitchhiking. And he’s got contacts. He knows Marlowe, knows how she works-”

“Yeah,” Sam sneered at Sully, “From what I hear you and Marlowe were thick as thieves. Pun intended.”

“Marlowe was just another client,” Sully said calmly. “And after the stunt she pulled I’d be glad to take her down with you. Never did get paid for that job. Speaking of which, whatever you’re planning, you’re gonna need some serious cash to get set up. I’ve got some… investments. And I can get us some work in the ‘acquisitions’ business in the meantime. Look, I want to see this one through just as much as you do.” _And I’m not ready to say goodbye to the kid just yet._

Sully could see Sam thinking it over. Nate, too. He felt a droplet of sweat wriggle free from his hairline and trickle down his temple.

_Now, time to seal the deal._

“And then, whatever you’ve got going on with that,” he said, jerking his chin at the mysterious white journal, “That’s your business. We can go our separate ways. No questions asked.”

“Sam, come on,” Nate jumped in, not giving his brother a chance to turn him down. “If it wasn’t for Sully, I don’t know how I would’ve got the ring. I’d have done something stupid. Got caught, probably.”

 _Not to mention shot_ , Sully added silently, but let the kid talk. If anyone was going to persuade Sam it was his little brother.

“Sully’s good at planning. He’s… sneaky,” Nate said, with a smile, “He knows how to do things the quiet way. And he’s taught me a lot already. I can drive a stick shift now. And I can pick a lock-”

Sully couldn’t help butt in. “Uh, you still need a little work on that one, kid.”

“And he’s gonna let me fly when I’m sixteen, right, Sully? And- And he’s been teaching me how to shoot-”

Sam’s face dropped. “He _what_?”

Nate faltered. “Like, target practice. Out in the desert. With empty bottles, y’know?”

Sam’s expression turned to thunder and before Nate could say anything else his brother had grabbed two fistfuls of Sully’s shirt, hauled him up off the couch and slammed him against the wall.

“ _He’s fifteen years old and you put a gun in his hand?_ ” Sam yelled, inches from Sully’s face.

“Sam!” Nate cried, “Let him go!”

Sully kept calm, as much as he wanted to teach the hot-headed son of a bitch a lesson, and raised his hands slowly in defence.

“The kid had a gun in his hand when I met him,” Sully answered in a steady voice, “and no idea how to use it.”

“He saved my life, Sam,” Nate cut in, pulling on his brother's arm, but Sam ignored him.

“He’s just a kid,” Sam whispered harshly, shoving Sully back against the wall for emphasis.

“I’m not a kid!” Nate shouted. Both of them ignored him.

“And he’s been getting himself involved with some dangerous people,” Sully countered. “You both have. He needs to know how to defend himself.”

“With a _gun_?” Sam’s voice had a razor sharp edge to it but Sully didn’t break eye contact for a second.

“Hey,” he barked, “You got him into this game. You didn’t think he’d have to learn sometime?”

After a pause, Sam’s anger deflated all of a sudden and he let go, retreating backwards, scrubbing at his face with his hands.

“You let me shoot, too,” Nate said quietly, following after his brother, “Remember? Last year.”

Sam gave him a withering look. “With an _air rifle_ , Nathan. That’s different.”

Sully tried to calm the adrenaline shooting through him as he readjusted his shirt. Maybe he’d gone too far. But when he thought about that day at the museum, leaping across the rooftops, finding Nate cornered like a feral dog… When he thought about what would have happened if he’d got there a few seconds too late… No, guns weren’t his first choice either but they served a purpose. And the kind of people they were likely to come up against wouldn't hesitate to use deadly force. He didn’t regret his decision to teach the kid; to keep him alive, no matter what.

“Better he learns how and never has to use one than finding himself staring down a barrel again,” Sully said.

Something seemed to snap in Sam’s mind. The fury that had slowly been dissipating came storming back and he gave Sully a murderous look as he backed away further. Sully really _really_ didn’t want to have to fight him but he readied himself in case he was faced with another assault. Instead, Sam spun around, snatched up Sully’s car keys and wrenched open the front door.

“Sam, wait! Where are you going?” Nate called after him.

But Sam didn’t reply. Sully heard the slam of a car door and the rev of an engine and Nate’s shouts growing more and more desperate as the car pulled away.

***

“He’ll be back,” Sully said, hoping that he was right. “He will.”

Nate hadn’t spoken since Sam had left. He'd been gone three hours and it was as if six months had been rolled back in an instant. The kid was back to the way he was when they’d first met – edgy and twitchy, watching the exits like a hawk, unable to sit still, his eyes wild and wide with fear.

The moment they heard tires on the driveway Nate jumped up and had the door open before Sam could get the key in the lock. His brother strode past him and headed straight for Sully who was sitting at the kitchen table. With a triumphant look, Sam slammed a fat roll of pesos down in front of him.

“Here,” he snapped. “Should be enough for six months’ bed and board. _Now_ we’re square.”

Nate gawped at the money. “Where d’you get this? Sam? What’s going on?”

Sam didn’t look at him. “I told you. I know a guy. He’s got us a job. This is just a down payment.” He glared at Sully, “ _You’re_ the one who said we needed money. Well, I’ve got it covered.”

“What the hell are you getting mixed up in?” Sully asked slowly, dread creeping into his stomach. “Who are you working with? A goddamn _cartel_? Come on, Sam, you’re smarter than that-”

Nate turned to his brother, betrayal flashing across his face. “You said we weren't gonna get involved with people like that again.”

_Again? Oh boy…_

“I owed a favour,” Sam said shortly.

Sully shook his head. _Nine months away and he’s already got himself caught up in something he can’t handle._ “You idiot,” he said, not even trying to disguise his disgust. “What did you do?”

Sam’s eyes were steely but there was a wretchedness there, too. He knew he was acting like a fool but had too much pride to do anything about it.

“Sam…?” Nate said, eyes darting between the money and his brother.

Sam threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “I got us a job, Nathan. Sometimes you have to start out at the bottom. Look, I’ve got a debt to pay off, okay? From prison. You found yourself a partner - well, so did I. Someone to watch my back. And now I owe him.”

Sully could understand the logic, much as he hated it. You did what you did to survive behind bars - you cut deals, you made alliances - but letting things spill out onto the outside was always a bad idea...

Nate looked away, the disappointment clear on his face. Sam made a move towards him but his little brother jerked backwards, out of reach.

“Hey,” Sam said, his voice softening, “It’s just one job, okay. Enough to get us back on track-”

Sully shook his head and shoved the money back across the table. His throat was closing up with the effort of not yelling in Sam’s face. Instead he kept his voice level. “You’re gonna get yourselves killed,” he said simply. “You think this partner of yours is gonna let you walk away after this? You don’t know these people. It doesn’t work like that.” 

Sam held his gaze for a moment then turned away from the table and started shoving Nate’s notes into a bag.

“Pack up your shit,” he snapped at his brother.

“Sam…” Nate pleaded.

“Now!”

“Hey! You ever stop to ask what Nate wants?” Sully cut in, the rage that had been simmering finally coming to the surface. “You ever think about what’s best for him?”

Sam grabbed Nate’s arm and pulled him away from the table, bending down until their eyes were level. “I promised to take care of you,” he whispered hoarsely. “That’s what I’m doing. You and me, Nathan. Just the two of us, that’s how it’s supposed to be, okay?”

There were tears in Nate’s eyes. He tried to speak but couldn’t seem to get the words out, not with his brother’s face so close, not when faced with the ragged desperation in his brother’s voice.

“Now please…" Sam said, "Pack up your stuff. We’ve gotta go.”

He let go and Nate stumbled off to the bedroom, returning half a minute later with Sam’s duffel bag and his rucksack, not daring to look at Sully at all.

Sully didn’t try to stop them. He knew it was no use. Something was dying inside him and all he could do was trust that they’d figure out they were wrong before they got themselves locked up – or worse.

“You’re better than this,” he said in a defeated voice. “What happened to ‘ _sic parvis magna_ ’, huh? Great things... _That’s_ what you’re destined for, the two of you. Not this petty shit.”

“I’m sorry, Sully,” Nate mumbled, looking more miserable than Sully had ever seen him.

Sully didn’t say it was okay. It wasn’t okay. There was a lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow. He picked up the roll of bills and held it out. “You’d better take this,” he said softly. “You’re gonna need it.”

Sam studied him for a moment before grabbing the money and shoving it into his pocket with a brief nod.

 _And you’re gonna regret this_ , Sully thought to himself. _Whatever happens next._

After one last sweep of the apartment, Sam pulled open the door, leaving the car keys on the coffee table this time. _Smart. No way to trace them this way._

Sully hadn’t moved from the kitchen table. Nate took a hesitant step towards the door, as if he was attached to Sully by an invisible string. As if every move was an effort.

Sully didn’t blame him. If it came down to a choice between him and Sam, there was only one path Nate could possibly take. And Sully would always lose. All the brothers had was each other - he knew that - but it didn’t make it any less painful.

Sam was already outside, waiting impatiently. “Come _on_ , Nathan.”

Nate wiped his eyes roughly and paused at the door, looking back one last time. 

Sully gave him a weak smile. “You take care of yourself, kid.”

Nate was still unable to speak, but Sully caught the silent apology; the regret; the impossible decision tearing the kid in two.

“You know where to find me,” Sully said meaningfully and Nate nodded.

For a moment Sully wished he'd never met the kid. But that was a lie. Better to have six fleeting months than never knowing Nate at all.  _Goddamnit._

“Nathan,” Sam said again, gentler this time.

And Nate ducked through the doorway and out of Sully’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, you _know_ it's not the end... But I couldn't pass up the opportunity for a super angsty moment like this now could I? Hope you enjoyed it. More to come.


	5. What We Owe

_They’ll be back_ , Sully told himself. _They will._

He kept the rental place for another month - just in case; just to be sure; half expecting the two of them to come piling through the door at any moment. But there was no sign of them. He checked the news obsessively, and even called in a few favours to see what he could dig up about the local cartels, hoping to hell that he wouldn’t come across any reports of two young _gringos_ getting locked up or murdered over something gang related. But there was nothing. Not a goddamn peep.

They were gone. The pair of them could be dead in a ditch and he’d never know. 

And after a while the empty apartment started to get to him. _What the hell are you still doing here, pining away like a goddamn idiot?_ He tried to shake it off. He’d become too used to having the kid around. He’d been getting soft. He’d tried his best but sometimes things just didn’t work out the way you wanted them to. And so he packed up his stuff and headed back to the states. Back ‘home’.

 _You know where to find me_ , he’d told the kid.

Sully, on principle, didn’t keep a fixed address, but he _did_ have a selection of boltholes and safehouses around the world – places to lay low when things got... hinky. 

He’d taken Nate to his favourite a few months before – a little non-descript bar in New Orleans run by a no-messin’ woman called Carolina who looked the other way and always kept a room spare for Sully to use when he was in town. He’d made Nate memorise the address and the phone number - drummed it into the kid: _If you get in trouble, if we get separated, go back to New Orleans. Back to the House of the Rising Sun._ Just like the song – a stupid joke – a secret little code. A safe place.

Sully spent a few weeks there after Columbia, flinching every time the phone rang, but there was no word, no sign of either Drake brother.

And he couldn’t sit around feeling sorry for himself forever. A man had to eat, after all. He started taking jobs again, calling in daily to the bar to check for messages and making Carolina swear she’d get in touch if she caught sight of the kid.

Once, while Sully was up in New York, she called to say someone had left a weird voicemail at the bar – a barely audible message that sounded like an international call – but the voice wasn’t clear and the caller hadn’t left a number. It might not have even been Nate.

Another time, Carolina had sure the kid had passed through. Or someone who looked a lot like him. There was someone else was with him, too – she said - a tall guy, skinny, looked a little shifty. She hadn’t spoken to them - hadn’t wanted to scare them off - and they’d left after an hour. 

Sully tried to remember as much as he could from Nate’s journal in the hope of turning up some clue to where they might have gone. He went to London and met up with a guy called Cutter, who was as much of a history buff as Nate and Sam, and they scoured the city for Marlowe, trying to scratch up a few new leads; something to impress the kid with when –  _if_  – he got back in touch. But the trail was cold, and Sully was starting to lose hope, wondering how the hell his life had got turned upside down by one little thief. Wondering how things might have turned out different if Sam hadn’t come back at all...

Another month passed. Then another. And still, nothing. Sully hated to admit it but he’d almost been hoping that they'd screw up. That they'd come crawling back for his help. The fact that Nate could just walk away and not even let him know he was alive, for chrissakes... That was what hurt the most. But maybe those six months had just been a way for the kid to pass the time until Sam got out. Maybe Nate couldn't wait to be rid of the old man. Or maybe the pair of them had got themselves into some serious trouble and couldn’t get word out. Those were the kinds of 'what ifs' that kept Sully awake at night, no matter how much he tried to convince himself he didn't care. 

Then, out of the blue, it happened – almost a full six months after the boys had disappeared into thin air. He took a call from an unknown number and listened in shock as a recorded message in Spanish requested confirmation that he was willing to take a collect call from a jail on the border of Mexico. It was them. It had to be them. 

“Yeah. Yes! I mean, si,” he answered immediately, and the message gave way to a dull ring tone and then… Nate’s voice, like the sun breaking through a cloud.

“Sully?”

Sully let out a long, shaky breath. “Nate?”

“Hey, Sully.”

“Kid! You okay? What the hell have you got yourself into?”

Nate gave an embarrassed little laugh, “We’re good. We uh, just… need a little bail money.”

Sully sighed. He didn’t ask how much. It didn’t matter. Something inside him that had slowly been breaking down over the past few months came ticking back to life.

“Sit tight, kid” he said, “I’m on my way.”

***

The kid had grown some. He was sixteen now. His hair was darker, his jawline sharper, and his shoulders were starting to broaden. Sam was much the same as before – he’d put on a little muscle and got himself some better-fitting clothes, but that familiar wariness in the eyes was still there when he looked at Sully.

“Been a while,” Sully said as he met them outside the jail.

Nate’s face split into a smile so broad and genuine that Sully would have forgiven him anything in that moment. He simultaneously wanted to hug him and punch him. Instead he slapped him on the shoulder and received an affectionate shove in return.

“We owe you,” Nate laughed, as if suddenly appearing out of nowhere asking for a bail out after a whole six months of radio silence was nothing.

“Yeah. You do,” Sully replied flatly, shifting his gaze to Sam, who’d been watching the reunion in silence.

“Victor,” Sam nodded, raising his hand at the wrist in a minuscule wave.

“Sam.”

For a moment they exchanged equally cool stares, then Sam’s confidence seemed to falter and he looked down at his hands. “Hey, uh. Thank you.”

“Any time,” Sully said, and was surprised to find he meant it.

***

He flew them back to New Orleans and Carolina brought them a seemingly never-ending supply of food, as if she knew Sully wanted to stretch out the evening as long as possible. He took her hand as she passed him fresh beer and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “You’re a treasure, Carolina,” he told her. She chuckled and swatted him on the shoulder.

“And your charming act will get you nowhere,” she replied.

 _Maybe in a different life_ , Sully thought.

Carolina set her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at Nate. “So. You think you’re a big man now you’ve been to jail?”

Nate choked on his mouthful and coughed into his sleeve. Sam looked amused and leaned back to watch the show, lighting up a cigarette.

Carolina shook her head. “I don’t know what’s so funny,” she snapped at Sam. “Babies, the pair of you. Not a word for months and then calling for _money_?”

“Carolina…” Sully began, but she shushed him with a wave of her hand.

“You want to be professionals in this business?” she asked, leaning forward on the table with an intensity that made both brothers shuffle back in their chairs. “You have to start by earning _respect_.”

A heavy silence descended on the table. Sully suppressed a smile. It was everything he’d wanted to say to the boys but would never have voiced aloud.  _The difference is, they might listen to her._

Nate cleared his throat politely. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow at Sam who inclined his head deferentially after a brief pause.

Carolina straightened up, suddenly all sunshine again, as if nothing had happened. “Alright then! Now, you eat up. And I want you to know you boys are welcome here any time, okay?”

The brothers mumbled their thanks and Sully chuckled into his drink as she strode back to the bar to intimidate some other unsuspecting patron.

“She ain’t foolin’,” Sully said. “You make a friend of Carolina you’re set for life. Just don’t piss her off.”

Nate reached a hand over the table, “Look, Sully, I’m sorry-” 

“No need,” Sully interrupted gruffly. He wasn’t about to let them know how much he’d worried about them over the last six months. _Let’s not get mushy about it._ “So. You got out of Columbia in one piece then?”

The brothers gave each other a look that Sully couldn’t quite decipher, though it looked decidedly guilty.

“Yeah…” Sam sighed, and Sully could see how hard the next words were for him to say: “We, uh… We took your advice. No more petty shit. No more small fry.”

 _Don’t say ‘I told you so’…_  

Sully smirked. “Oh really? And how’s that quest of yours comin’ along?”

Nate’s hand went to the ring around his neck instinctively and his eyes lit up as if an electric current was running through him. He lowered his voice and leaned over the table conspiratorially. “We figured out the code, Sully” he said, “Inside the ring. It’s _coordinates_. Somewhere off the coast of Panama. And the date… it’s the day _after_ Drake supposedly died.”

Sam had started to look uncomfortable the moment Nate had begun talking and nudged his brother sharply. “Hey-”

Nate ignored him, eyes locked with Sully's. “Drake faked his own death. I’m sure of it.”

“That’s quite a theory…” Sully commented.

“I know, right? If only we had that astrolabe…”

Sam slammed his drink down on the table. “Nathan. Enough.”

Nate turned to glare at his brother. “What?”

“He doesn’t need to know,” Sam said through gritted teeth.

“You think I’m gonna go after it myself?” Sully asked, with a quirk of a smile. “Sounds like a whole lot of effort to me. You’ll need a boat, diving gear… No, I’ll leave this one to you boys. Unless you’ve changed your mind about letting me ‘tag along’…” He laid on the sarcasm thick to hide the fact that he would have jumped at the chance at joining them. He had too much pride to admit it out loud. _No point looking needy. They'll only think you're weak._

Nate looked hopefully at his brother but Sam gave a decisive shake of his head.

_Still not ready to lay down a little trust? Okay, let's call your bluff..._

“Well then,” Sully said, getting to his feet. “You boys clearly have it all planned out. I’ll settle up with Carolina. See you around.”

Nate gave him a wounded look. “Wait, you’re going?”

Sully shrugged. “I’ve got my own work to do, kid.”

“But…”

“You know where to find me,” Sully said. “And I can always do with an extra pair of hands if you ever need a job.”

Nate nodded, looking downcast. Sam just watched him with those hawk eyes, drawing slowly on his cigarette.

But there was power in being the one to walk away. And Sully wasn’t ready to open up his heart again. Not yet. Not until the brothers learned the value of a friend.

***

The next time he visited the bar there was a package waiting for him: a couple of thousand dollars and a note that simply said ‘all square?’ in a hand he didn’t recognise. Sam’s, he guessed. He frowned.

“You see who left it?” he asked Carolina.

“Nope. Just turned up in my safebox a few days ago.” She gave him a disapproving look. “My _locked_ safebox.”

Sully covered his laugh with a cough. _Someone’s learned a few tricks._

***

Two months later he was at a museum gala when he caught sight of a familiar figure at the bar. He almost hadn’t recognised him, dressed in a sharp suit and looking much older than his twenty-one years. It wasn’t the Drake he’d hoped to see – the elder, not the younger – but where there was one, there was sure to be the other… A burst of adrenaline shot through him as he made his way through the crowd.

Sully nodded at the bartender and sidled in beside his target. “Hey, Sam...”

Sam startled but quickly covered his surprise with a fake smile. “Victor.”

“Here on business?”

“Of sorts.”

Sully nodded. He’d come to the event to scope out an artefact that was on the wishlist of a potential client, and it looked like he’d just found his competition. He scanned the room for Nate.

“Where’s your brother?”

Sam grimaced. _Goddamnit, what now?_

“He’s… uh... doing a little time.”

“He’s in jail?” Sully hissed. “ _Again_?”

Just then the barman brought Sully’s drink and the two of them feigned polite conversation for a moment. As soon as they had privacy again Sully turned to fix Sam with a glare. “What did you do?”

“Me?” Sam bristled. “Hey, this one’s on him. Little punk started a fight. Got a real temper when he gets started…”

“Runs in the family,” Sully snapped. “I thought you were looking out for him?”

“I _am_ ,” Sam answered in a dangerous voice. “But he’s not a kid anymore.”

There was a long silence as they both turned back to their drinks. An announcement came over the PA that the exhibition would soon be open for private viewings. He eyed Sam sideways. There would only be a short window of opportunity to steal the artefact and only one of them could walk away with it. _Maybe a little healthy competition'll do him good_ , he thought. _See how a real pro does it._

But then he saw the anxiety in Sam’s face. This was a risky job. This was the big time - certainly not small fry. And the kid was here on his own. Sully’s resolve crumbled and he tapped the bar thoughtfully.

“What're you thinkin'? Take the back way? And lift it before the viewing?” he muttered under his breath.

Sam shot him a strange look. "Yeah..."

Sully gave a sharp shake of his head. "Ain't gonna happen. Upper gallery. On the left."

Sam glanced up to where Sully was indicating – the obvious route to the exhibition for anyone hoping to sneak past unawares. But there were two armed guards there, barely visible behind the marble pillars.

“Thanks,” Sam whispered. Then, a little uncertainly. “You got any other ideas?”

“Big old building like this… Covered in balconies and ornate crap, right? Sure to be plenty of ways up from the outside...”

If he was anything like his brother, climbing wouldn’t be a problem. Sam nodded in confirmation.

“What about you?” he asked.

Sully raised his drink with a smile. “I happen to know the curator – lovely lady, always happy to listen to a couple of dirty old Navy stories… I’ll keep her out of your hair.”

Sam snorted a laugh, staring at him in consternation. “Why are you doin’ this?”

Sully shrugged. “You need the money to get Nate out, right?”

Sam nodded sombrely.

“Well then. That’s a worthy cause if ever I heard one,” Sully sighed, glancing at the huge brass clock that hung above the bar. “You’d better get going. I can buy you twenty minutes.”

“Thanks, Victor,” Sam said, holding out his hand.

_Definitely not a kid any more. And starting to learn a little respect at last._

Sully paused only a moment before taking Sam’s hand and giving it a firm shake.

“I owe you,” Sam added with a roguish grin.

“Add it to the list,” Sully replied, chuckling, and in the blink of an eye, Sam was gone – lost in the crowd.

***

Another note arrived, a month or so later, to let him know Nate was out of jail. No cash this time, but Sully didn’t mind. It was an investment. A silent, unspoken assurance that they’d come back to him one day. 

And they did. On and off. A job here, a bail out there, a tip off or a pick up or a hint of a clue passed between equals - between _friends_. He tried to let go of the feeling that they ought to need his help and learned to be satisfied that they chose to stay in touch at all. That was enough. And the boys had each other, at least.

He started to lose track of the time. Nate would be… almost seventeen by now? Surely it hadn’t been that long? He didn’t even know when his birthday was, only that every time he saw the kid he seemed to have shot up another foot, gained a heap of muscle, and cranked up his attitude a notch or two. But it had been a long while since he’d seen either of them. Carolina said they’d come by the bar a few times, months back now, but she’d had no sign since. And Sully couldn't help but start to worry.  _Like an old mother hen for chrissakes..._ But his instincts were rarely wrong. Though this time, he wished they hadn't proved him right.

Another middle of the night phone call – and an edge to Nate’s voice that made Sully’s blood turn to ice.

“Sully… Sully you’ve gotta help- I… I don’t know what to do.”

“Hey, hey. Slow down, kid. What’s goin’ on? Where are you?”

He heard Nate take a deep breath, then let it out in a rush. “It’s Sam,” the kid said, his voice cracking slightly on his brother’s name. “They’ve got Sam, Sully… They’re gonna kill him.”


	6. These Two

Sully drove through the night and the best part of the next day to get to him, his anger growing into a fury as the miles stretched on and on. Sam had gone missing the previous evening and Nate had gone half out of his mind with worry, then lost the other half of his sanity when he'd received a call telling him he needed to deliver twenty-five grand to some lowlife con artist if he wanted to see his brother again.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Sully had told Nate over the phone. “We’re gonna get him back, I promise. Just wait for me, kid. Promise me you’ll wait.” 

Nate had muttered a shaky affirmative but Sully knew how easily the kid lost his head when it came to his brother, and he spent the entire journey imagining worst case scenarios. When he finally pulled up at the dark dockside parking lot he almost sobbed with relief to see Nate standing there.

The kid had him wrapped in a hug before he’d even fully got out of the car, and Sully could feel the shaking of his shoulders.

“It’s okay, kid,” he murmured. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Nate broke the embrace and staggered back, dragging his fingers through his hair. There were dark circles under his eyes and Sully wondered when he’d last slept.

“Have you got the money?” the kid asked anxiously, peering into the car, but Sully shook his head.

“We’re not giving that bastard a penny,” he said.

Nate froze in horror. “What? No. Sully – he's not screwing around. This guy… We’ve worked with him before. He was gonna fence an artefact for us but he tried to cut us out of the deal and we got the hell out of there. I don’t know how he found us but… He figures we owe him.”

Sully swallowed the lecture that was brewing inside him – about how you never work with anyone you can’t vouch for; about how you negotiate your own damn deals and don’t leave a trail; about how none of this would have happened if they’d just stuck with him in the first place, goddamnit it – but now wasn’t the time. His anger wasn’t directed at Nate or Sam – he was saving it all up for the son of a bitch who was trying to take away the only good thing in his life.

Nate had started pacing, trying to calm his panic, and Sully grabbed him by the arm, forcing the kid to face him.

“Nate. Look at me. I know the kind of person we’re dealing with. They’re a dime a dozen and he's not gonna let Sam go – even if we pay up.” 

The kid’s eyes filled with fear. He shook his head in denial and tried to break out of Sully’s grip but the older man held on even tighter, giving him a little shake.

“Listen to me, kid. We’re gonna get him out of there. But you have to trust me. Do _exactly_ as I say, okay?” 

Nate managed to nod and Sully let him go, wishing to all hell that he could make the whole situation just disappear; to go back to when it was just the two of them; back before things had got complicated. But he was here now, and Sam was in trouble, and Sully suddenly realised he wasn't just doing this for Nate. Much as he struggled to get along with Sam, he wasn't about to leave him behind. He just hoped he could keep his promise and get him out of there in one piece. 

***

The message Nate had received told him to meet the fence at the dockyard, alone, and with the full amount in cash. Well, whoever this guy was, he was about to get something very different. Sully sent the kid scouting around the perimeter to find out exactly what they were dealing with. From what Nate had told him it was a small time operation – some ambitious asshat, trying to punch above his weight, who saw the Drake brothers as an easy target – but it always paid to be cautious.

Nate was back within a minute, breathless, wide-eyed and wired. “They’ve got him in the watchtower office,” he pointed to a squat timber structure up on stilts by the edge of the water. “Two guys round the back, one on the front. The fence is inside with Sam.” 

_Four against two. I’ll take those odds._

The whites of Nate’s eyes shone in the dark. “Do you have a gun?” he asked in barely a whisper.

The memory of Sam’s accusation rang out inside Sully’s head:  _You put a gun in his hand…_ At the time, Sully had thought Sam was being naïve, but now, when it came down to it, Sully understood the cold reality of what he'd meant. Nate was still a child. And the time might well come when the kid had to take a life but Sully was not about to be the one to make that decision for him. 

Sully shook his head. “No, no guns,” he said. “We can take ‘em out quietly.” 

Nate looked worried but followed Sully’s lead as they skirted the dockyard, heading towards the back of the tower. Two guards loitered against the structure, clearly not expecting much more than a sixteen-year-old with a bag of money.

“You take the one on the left, I’ll take the one on the right,” Sully said under his breath, casting around for some kind of weapon and passing the kid a short plank of wood from the detritus scattered around the docks. Nate's eyes were fierce with determination and Sully had to grab a fistful of the kid's shirt to stop him darting out from their hiding place. “Hey,” Sully said sharply, reading the kid’s intent. “Just knock ‘em out, alright? We don’t want to get in hotter water than we are already.”

Nate grimaced back at him but nodded, and then he was gone. _Shit, he’s fast._

Sully took a different route, sidestepping his way around shipping containers until he had a clear path to the right-hand guard. From his position he could just make out a dark figure slinking around to the other side of the tower. The kid moved differently now – there was more weight to him, more purpose. He was gonna be a big fella when he finally stopped growing. And Sam had told Sully all about the kid's penchant for fighting – it seemed like all those street rat scraps had finally paid off. Sully was just glad he could hold his own. He watched as Nate appeared out of the shadows and delivered a knockout blow to the left-hand guard with the plank. Sully took a moment to admire the kid’s precision before he remembered he had a job to do, too.

_Your turn, old man. Better get on with it._

Sully’s approach was slightly less graceful. He popped up from behind a crate, dealt the remaining guard a swift one-two and the guy went down in a heap. Sully rubbed the sting out of his knuckles and turned to grin at the kid, but then a noise from above made them both freeze.

The sound of a beating. And a cry of pain, sharply cut off.

 _Sam_.

Nate’s face turned childlike again – helpless, looking desperately at Sully to somehow make it stop. Silently, and without exchanging a word, the two of them climbed the back of the tower and slipped over the balcony. They crouched by the wall of the office and peered through the window.

Sam was tied to a chair with his back to them. A guy with a gun stood in front of him, a sneer on his face. 

“That’s Petersen,” Nate whispered. “The fence. Total asshole.”

As if to prove the kid's point, Petersen backhanded Sam with the butt of his pistol, snapping his head to the side.

Sam let out a colourful tirade of swear words that impressed even Sully, and spat blood at Petersen’s boots.

“Your brother’s late,” the fence snapped, gripping Sam by the chin and forcing his face back up.

Sam laughed humourlessly, jerking his head free. “My brother’s _miles_ away. You think we’ve got that kind of money? If he’s got any sense he’ll be out of the country by now.”

Nate gave Sully a worried look but Sully knew a bluff when he heard one.

Petersen sighed. “Stop stalling, Sam. I _know_ you sold the piece, and I want my damn cut!”

“You’re not getting shit, so let’s just get this over with,” Sam said in a horribly quiet voice, and Sully felt something dangerous shift in the air. They were running out of time.

Petersen smiled coldly at his prisoner all of a sudden. “I don’t buy it. I'm guessing your brother’s out there, somewhere,” he said, gesturing at the window with the gun. Nate and Sully ducked, hardly daring to breathe. “Maybe he just needs a little motivation to come up here and admit he fucked up.”

“Sully…” Nate hissed, but before they could do anything Petersen leaned across Sam and took hold of his right hand, yanking back on his middle finger until it cracked. A ragged scream tore out of Sam’s throat.

Sully shuddered. Nate had gone pale. They reeled in shock for a moment, unable to tear their eyes away from the sight. Sam hunched over as much as the ropes would allow, his face drenched in sweat and tears. Petersen pace a slow circle around the chair, hiding Sam from view, and then the terrible snap of bones rang out again and Sam let out another harsh cry.

Nate moved to pull himself over the window sill but Sully held him back. “No! Not yet.” There was still one more guard around the front of the office to deal with. _Gotta shorten these odds a little more._

He all but shoved the kid round the corner until they were out of sight of the window. They could hear Sam gasping in pain as they skirted round the side of the office. Sully winced in sympathy. _Just hold on, Sam_. _We're coming._

Before they reached the front, where the last guard stood, Sully pushed Nate back into the shadows. The kid was in no shape to handle this one. He was shivering, as if he could feel what Sam was feeling, his breath catching in his throat with every inhale.

Sully slapped him gently on the cheek. “Hey. Kid, I need you to focus.”

“He’s gonna kill him…” Nate murmured, staring into space.

Sully shook him by his collar. “What was the artefact he was gonna fence for you?” he demanded. “And who was the buyer?”

Nate blinked dumbly for a second.

“You want me to get Sam out alive? You gotta give me something to work with,” Sully said, and the boy finally clawed his way out of the shock and met his stare.

“It was a scabbard. For a dagger. Sixteenth century. British,” Nate rattled off robotically. “Buyer was an American collector – we never knew his name.”

Sully patted his shoulder. “Alright. Good. Stay here a sec.”

_Time to finish this._

Sully turned the final corner and met the guard head on – no time for subtlety now – a kick to the nuts and a knee to the face and the guy went crashing through the door into the office and lay still.

“Just follow my lead,” Sully whispered to Nate as he strode into the room, dragging the kid after him by the scruff of his neck. Nate didn’t have to fake the fear on his face, and his expression was mirrored by his brother, whose eyes widened in surprise.

Sam’s face was a patchwork of bruises and cuts, and the neck of his shirt was stained with blood. Sully tried not to react to the sight of his broken fingers; tried to ignore the hoarse panting of his breath; tried not to imagine what would happen if things went wrong.

Petersen already had his gun to Sam’s head. “Who the fuck are you?” he snarled at Sully.

“I’m the one who’s got to clean up this mess,” Sully growled back, throwing Nate to the floor between them.

“Nathan…” Sam breathed, straining at his bonds to get to his brother, his face full of betrayal and confusion when he looked back up at Sully. Nate scrambled forward but Petersen dug the barrel of his pistol harder into Sam’s temple and the kid froze on his hands and knees.

“What the hell is this? Where’s the money?” Petersen demanded, temporarily stumped by the appearance of Sully.

Sam’s pleading eyes were fixed on his brother. “Nathan, get out of here!”

Nate hung his head. “Sam, I tried- I’m _sorry_ …”

“All of you, shut the hell up!” Sully roared. And even Petersen was startled into silence.

_That’s better. Control the room. It doesn’t matter who has the gun if you’re in charge._

Sully pointed at the boys. “These two? They belong to me. And _you_ ,” he jabbed his finger at Petersen, “You are gonna answer to my employer.”

Petersen faltered for a moment. “What are you talking about?”

Sully rolled his eyes as if it was obvious and the rest of them were just slow on the uptake. “The scabbard,” he said, “It was a fake.”

He let the lie sink in. The brothers exchanged bewildered looks but thankfully stayed silent. _Just play along, boys, that’s all you have to do._

Petersen narrowed his eyes at Sam. “You little shit…”

“Now, it doesn’t really matter if you were in on it or not,” Sully continued, taking a slow step towards the other man, “What matters is that you tried to sell this shoddy piece of forgery to my employer – and, as I’m sure you know, he is not a man to screw with.”

_Let him fill in the blanks. Let him imagine the worst. You don’t have to be specific – just make him doubt what he thinks he knows._

Sully grabbed hold of Nate once more and hauled him up to his feet. “And what he wants right now is for me to bring in these two punks for a little… conversation.”

Petersen’s jaw had gone slack. Sully could see the man’s pulse rising in fear. Whoever this ‘employer’ really was, Sully obviously wasn’t far off the mark.

“And then it’ll be your turn,” Sully added, nodding at Petersen with a vicious smile. “So the way I figure, it’s in your best interests to be as cooperative as possible and maybe I’ll put in a good word – tell him how they pulled one over on you too. _Maybe_ he’ll be understanding.”

Petersen nodded vaguely, backing away, gun dangling at his side. “Hey, man, I didn’t know, I swear…”

Sully pulled out a pocket knife and passed it to Nate, pushing him towards the chair. “Cut him loose,” he ordered, and Nate hurried to obey. 

But the guard Sully had knocked out was starting to stir and the prospect of reinforcements seemed to give Petersen a second wind. “Wait a second,” he snapped, swinging the pistol back towards Sam. “I’m not done with them yet – they still owe me a cut.”

Sully stepped carefully over the prone guard, casually kicking him in the ribs as he passed, and offered Petersen his widest, most shit-eating grin. “Are you some sort of moron? Any money these idiots got from the sale goes straight back to the buyer. You wanna be part of this shit show? Be my guest. You’ll get your ‘cut’ when he’s done with these two.”

He was within arm’s reach of the fence now, and could see the gun shaking in the man’s hand. _Goddamnit, don’t do anything stupid…_

Sully reached out slowly and closed his fist around Petersen’s wrist, carefully turning the gun up and away from Sam. “If I were you,” he said quietly, “I’d be running out that door right about now.”

Time seemed to slow down, standing on a knife’s edge, their faces inches apart, Sully’s grip on Petersen’s wrist as hard as stone. He could hear Nate slicing furiously at the ropes around Sam’s wrists beside him but didn’t dare look away. Behind them, the guard let out a groan and got to his feet, taking in the tableau with groggy confusion.

Then it all happened in an instant.

Petersen clocked Sully on the jaw with his free hand and fought to bring his gun arm back down. The guard lurched forwards. Nate span with the knife outstretched, but before he could do anything Sam wrenched himself free of the chair and tackled the goon around the middle, sending them both crashing down and smashing the guard's head against the floor. Sully used the distraction to drive a fist into Petersen’s stomach, twisting the gun around, away from the boys, away from his own body, until it was pointing down – just as Petersen’s finger squeezed the trigger.

For a millisecond the air in the room stood still and Sully could hear the beating of his own heart. Then Petersen gave a grunt of pain and fell to the ground clutching at his thigh, the gun clattering down beside him, blood seeping through his fingers. Sully swiped up the pistol and tossed it out through the open window into the dock, then turned to help Nate haul a semi-conscious Sam to his feet. He’d managed to land on his broken hand and was breathing in short, sharp gasps of agony, his face rapidly turning a pallid grey. 

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Sully muttered as they stumbled out of the office with Petersen yelling abuse and curses after them.

Sam leaned heavily on the two of them, half-falling, half-slipping down the stairs together. His eyes were glazed and his voice came out in a rough whisper. “…shouldn’t have come… should’ve left me…”

“Take it easy, boyo,” Sully said as they reached the car, easing Sam into the backseat. Nate climbed in beside him and Sully gunned the engine, his heart still thudding in his chest.

_Goddamnit. That was close. Too close._

When he looked in the rearview mirror Nate had Sam’s head cradled in his lap. The kid was staring straight ahead, his face a mask of grim shock. His brother’s eyes were closed but his eyelids flickered and his jaw clenched in a grimace of pain. The pair of them looked as if they’d aged a decade in the space of an hour. Sully wondered how many new grey hairs he’d acquired over the evening…

The adrenaline was starting to abate now and he gave a little shiver. He wanted to throw up. He didn't think he'd ever been so angry in his goddamn life. It was if something had taken possession of him from the moment he’d heard the panic in Nate’s voice on the phone - a beast that had grown every second he'd had to look at Sam tied to that chair, a gun to his head... He'd been ready to snap Petersen’s neck and it had taken every ounce of self-control he had not to.

Sully gripped the steering wheel tighter to stop his hands trembling. 

 _These two – they belong to me_ , he’d said. And he'd meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not mess with Papa Sully. He will Fuck. You. Right. Up.
> 
> I realised there's not many references to how badass Sully must have been in his heyday (he's only forty-something when he meets Nate) but you can bet your ass he could talk/fight his way out of anything. I mean, you don't get to be an old man in this game without some serious skills, right? Well this chapter is a testament to that. Hope you enjoyed it.


	7. Partners

Sully’s closest safehouse was an hour away but it only took him forty minutes to get them there – even with a stop-off to pick up Nate and Sam’s stuff from their stash - driving wildly on the fumes of adrenaline and relief. By the time they arrived, Sam had regained consciousness but wasn’t particularly happy about it. He let out a steady stream of expletives as Sully and Nate half-carried him up two flights of stairs to the spartan bachelor apartment and set him down on the bed. 

All three of them were ready to drop with exhaustion but there was still work to be done. Sully disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, returning with a wet washcloth and a medical kit that he dumped in front of Nate, “Your turn to play nurse,” he said. “Get him cleaned up best you can. I’m gonna make a few calls.”

Sam sat cradling his broken hand against his chest, breathing hard. Nate reached up with the cloth to dab at cut across Sam’s eyebrow but his brother swatted his hand away. “Leave it, I’m fine.”

“Sam, you’re not fine!” Nate snapped, refusing to be intimidated by Sam’s best ‘I’m-your-brother-and-you-do-what-I-say’ look. He threw the cloth at Sam with a scowl. “You do it then.”

Sam muttered something under his breath but pressed the cloth against the side of his head, doing a poor job of hiding a wince.

“Shouldn’t we take him to the hospital?” Nate asked Sully in a hushed voice.

Sully shook his head. “I know someone who can help. Unless you wanna risk bumping into Petersen getting that bullet dug out of his leg?”

Sam had been trying – and failing – to light a cigarette with his left hand, and his head jerked up at the mention of Petersen’s name. “That son of a goddamn bitch motherfu-”

Sully plucked the lighter out of Sam’s hand, lit the cigarette for him, and passed it back. “Forget about him. He’s not worth your trouble.”

Sam’s eyes blazed, “When I get hold of that asshole, I’m gonna-”

“You’re not gonna do a goddamn thing!” Sully yelled, his patience breaking into pieces. “You’re lucky you got out of there with a couple of broken bones. Jesus, do you know how close you came to-”

But he couldn’t say it out loud and a heavy silence fell. Both boys were staring at him.

Sam gave an embarrassed little laugh. “You know, you were pretty scary back there, Victor,” he said. “Thought Petersen was gonna shit his pants.”

Nate’s eyes glittered with an admiring smile and did a poor imitation of Sully’s gravelly voice: “If I were you, I’d be running out that door right about now…”

Sam snorted smoke out of his nose and Sully forced himself to keep a straight face as the tension of the past few hours drained out of him. He let out a huffing sigh and shook his head wearily.

_Stupid goddamn idiot kids._

***

Dr Garner was an old friend who didn’t ask questions when she received late night phone calls requesting medical help. Sully greeted her at the door with a glass of whisky but she waved it away, shouldering her bag and pushing past him into the apartment.

“Save it for after,” she said, stopping briefly to look him up and down disapprovingly. “Though it looks like you could use one right now.”

Sully raised his eyes to heaven. _Ain’t that the truth._

The boys looked up as she entered the bedroom and Nate instinctively scooted closer to his brother. Garner took a seat on the edge of the bed and wordlessly gestured for Sam to show her his hand. After a quick nervous glance at Sully, Sam uncoiled himself and reluctantly held out his broken fingers. 

The doctor made a tutting sound as she inspected the injury before digging in her bag and retrieving a pot of pills. “Here,” she said, pressing two tablets into Sam’s good hand, “You’re gonna need these over the next few days. Just pace yourself – this is the good shit.”

Sam nodded his thanks and necked the drugs dry, flinching as she prodded gingerly at his hand.

“You got any ice, Sullivan?” Garner asked, without looking up, and Sully fetched some from the freezer while she laid out her equipment on the bed.

“Is it bad?” Nate asked as Sully passed the doctor a towel full of ice cubes. Both boys were looking a little pale, and Sam had all but flattened himself against the headboard, as if he was trying to put as much distance between himself and his broken hand as possible.

The doctor frowned, pointing at Sam’s middle finger. “That one'll need resetting.” She looked pointedly at her patient. “You want a shot of lidocaine or shall I just get it over with? Sometimes the shot hurts more than the break, and you’ll have to wait half an hour for it to kick in.”

Sam glanced at his little brother who was staring at his mangled hand in horror and composed his face into a nonchalant expression. “Might as well just do it, right?”

Garner raised an eyebrow. “Tough guy, huh? Alright. You two hold him steady for a minute,” she said to Nate and Sully.

Sam swallowed thickly as they took up position either side of him, clamping down on his arms and pinning him in place. Sam was gritting his teeth so hard Sully heard his jaw creak.

“Don’t look,” Sully said gruffly, and the brothers turned their heads together. The doctor shifted her grip on Sam’s hand and there was a resounding crunching noise.

Sam yelped, his entire body jerking backwards reflexively. “Holy mother of  _God_!” 

Sully could feel Sam’s heart thudding out a rapid tattoo as he dug his shoulder into the boy’s chest.

“Okay,” Garner said softly. “You can let him go now.”

Sam sagged against the pillows, letting out a little grunt with every breath, his chest heaving. The doctor carefully splinted up his fingers and wrapped the whole lot in a tight, neat bandage, patting Sam on the thigh when she was done.

“You did good,” she said, and he gave an unsteady laugh in reply. “Now, you’re gonna want to stay dosed up, keep it iced, and sleep off some of the shock, okay?”

Sam nodded weakly, letting his head fall back against the wall with a thud.

Garner packed up her stuff with a wry look at Sully, “And I think I’ll take that drink now.”

“Make that two,” Sam croaked, raising his good hand in a half-wave.

Nate held up three fingers with a crooked smile.

Sully chuckled. “I’ll get the bottle.”

***

Sully grabbed a couple of hours of leaden sleep on the couch. It was just after dawn when he woke again, some internal alarm or residual trauma from the night before jolting him upright, leaving him blinking into the dull early morning light. 

He crept into the bedroom to check on the boys. Sam had passed out a mere half an hour after Dr Garner had left, the painkillers taking him under like a flood, and he was still in the same position now – propped up against the pillows, head turned to one side, his bandaged hand in his lap. Unconsciousness made him look much younger, but he still managed to maintain his usual frown in his sleep, twitching occasionally, either from pain or bad dreams, or both.

Nate lay curled up beside his brother, having refused to leave him to take a turn on the couch, but he stirred when Sully peered around the door.

“Hey, kid.”

“Hey,” Nate yawned.

They both watched Sam for a moment, deep in the sleep of recovery, and shared a brief smile. Sully was proud of how the boys had handled things, all things considered. And going through it together seemed to have opened up something unspoken between them – a new level of trust, beyond words.

They crept out of the bedroom and stood awkwardly in the darkened kitchen for a minute. The circles beneath Nate's eyes were just as deep as they were the night before and Sully had to fight an instinct to grab the kid round the neck and pull him in for a rough, desperate hug.

“You okay?” he asked.

Nate nodded unconvincingly, sinking down onto the couch and pulling his knees up to his chest. “Kinda feels like a dream,” he murmured. “Still can’t believe we got away.” 

Sully faked a reassuring smile, glancing at the bedroom door. For a moment there, he hadn’t been entirely sure they were going to pull it off, either.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there,” Nate said quietly.

Sully swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn’t bear to think what kind of state the kid would be in if they’d got there too late; if Sam hadn’t made it home alive. “Don’t think about the ‘what ifs’,” Sully told him. “No good ever came from that.”

Nate considered this for a moment, then reached over the arm of the sofa for his backpack and dug through it. “I need to show you something.”

Sully sat down next to him and the kid placed a bundled up t-shirt in his lap with a nervous look. There was something inside it and Sully unwrapped the shirt slowly to reveal a tarnished bronze sheath, decorated with ornate engravings. His breath left him in a rush. “The scabbard.”

“We didn’t sell it,” Nate told him, “It’s Spanish, from Drake’s era – we thought it might have been something from one of his hauls.”

Sully turned the artefact over in his hands in awe. “Another clue?”

The kid shook his head, “Not that we can tell. Another dead end.”

Not for the first time, Sully wondered at the world the brothers had found themselves mixed up in. Pirate treasure. Centuries-old artefacts. Priceless antiquities wrapped up in old t-shirts. “Still, gotta be worth something, huh?”

Nate shrugged. “Petersen thought so, but we didn’t trust him enough to get us a good price.” At this, the kid looked up hopefully at Sully.

A smile lifted the corner of Sully’s lips. “I might know a guy…”

Nate matched his smile. “I thought you might.”

“For a reasonable fee, of course,” Sully added with mock seriousness. 

The kid nodded. “Partners, right?”

An invisible fist clenched at Sully’s heart and he passed the scabbard back to Nate. “Partners,” he echoed.

***

Nate and Sully were making breakfast when a loud crash came from the bathroom, followed by a heartfelt yell of “craaaap!” from Sam.

A few minutes later he stumbled out from the bedroom, a fresh t-shirt half-tangled up around his neck. He’d managed to get his head and good arm through the appropriate holes but the next step had defeated him. His right side was still bare, injured hand hanging at his side. A couple of fist-sized bruises stood out on his ribs and there were rope burns around his wrists where he'd been tied to the chair. The marks on his face were even more vivid in the daylight, in varying shades of purple, and the skin around his left eye was swollen and black. 

Sully wanted to wince just looking at him but Sam managed a self-deprecating grin as he leant against the doorframe with a sigh. “A little help?” he asked his brother.

Nate snickered and went to assist him, being extra careful with his bandaged hand as he guided it through the remaining arm hole. Sam straightened himself out and put a cigarette between his lips. 

“Jesus, have some food first,” Sully tutted, gesturing to the couch and passing him a cup of coffee.

Sam eased himself down with an elongated groan, tucking the cigarette behind his ear. “Ugh. Being one-handed _sucks_. Took me ten minutes to take a damn piss.”

Sully placed a bowl of scrambled eggs in Sam’s lap and raised an eyebrow. “I’ll cut up your food for you but I draw the line at bathroom assistance…”

Sam barked a laugh. “Fine with me.”

Sully frowned as he watched Sam pick at his food. Every movement seemed to cause him pain. And yet he was all smiles and wisecracks for his brother, acting like the night before was nothing but a jaunt. Sully had noticed the same habit in the youngest Drake - bury down the trauma and the fear, make light of every near-death experience until you rewrite the story, one step removed from reality. Sully wondered exactly what would have to happen for them to take their mortality seriously.

For a moment he imagined Nate sitting there all busted up - imagined a gun pressing against the kid’s head – and considered just packing the whole thing in, getting a real job, going straight, and raising the boys in some sort of normality, but he knew it wouldn’t fly with either of them. They had a quest to chase and weren’t about to give it up for an old man’s peace of mind.

 _Hey, less of the old_ , he told himself, but when he looked at the danger-filled life stretching ahead of the two boys he felt every damn year weighing down on him.

Sam was struggling to eat left-handed, and when he tried to swap the bowl for the coffee mug, his fork clattered out of his good hand and onto the floor. He swore, bent down to get it, spilled his coffee in his lap, swore louder, and hissed in pain as his broken hand bumped against the edge of the sofa.

Sully’s lips pursed in concern. “You want me to get the doc to come and take another look at you later?”

Sam waved him away, brushing at the stain on his jeans and dumping his bowl onto the cushion next to him with an infuriated grunt.

“Who is she, anyway? Another old flame, like Carolina?” Sam said, a teasing look in his eyes.

_Always deflection with this one._

Sully tapped his nose. “A gentleman never tells.”

“Don’t see any gentlemen here,” Sam countered smartly, but his face was still tense with pain.

Sully’s eyes browsed the catalogue of injuries covering the young man. “You had any painkillers this morning?”

Sam shrugged a negative.

“For chrissakes, Sam, take your goddamn meds.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Sam muttered, “Anyway, they make me drowsy.”

“Good!” Sully snapped, “Maybe they’ll stop you running around like a damn idiot.”

Sam opened his mouth to retort then closed it again. And Sully realised what was really bugging him – Sam hadn’t really thanked him for last night. In fact, Sully suspected Sam actually resented the fact that he'd come to the rescue. The little punk never let down his guard - not even for a second - and Sully wanted to shake him.

Sam clambered awkwardly off the couch, trying to mask the effort it took him, and nudged his brother. “You ready to go, Nathan?”

Nate blinked at him. “Go? Where?”

“We’ll come back, I promise” Sam placated, “Just… a few loose ends I’d like to tie up.”

Sully crossed the room, feeling the fury of the previous night rising in his veins as he guessed Sam’s intent. “You are _not_ going after Petersen. You’re in no fit state to be starting another fight. And that is the end of it.”

Sam whirled, an intensity in his eyes that Sully had seen once before – when the kid'd had him up against a wall.

“Prick was gonna kill me,” Sam growled.

“You carry on this way, a whole lot of people are gonna end up trying to kill you," Sully yelled right back, "And lucky for you we got there before he managed it."

“I had it under control,” Sam said with a petulant pout. 

Sully gave a hollow laugh, “Oh really? How many more fingers were you gonna let him break before you sprang into action?”

“Fuck you, Victor,” Sam spat.

But Sully wasn’t about to back down. “You can’t let your pride get the better of you. Cut your losses, count your blessings, and move on.”

Sam’s eyes rolled. “Jeez. Always another sermon...”

“Just listen to him, Sam,” Nate said, then shrank away slightly as his brother turned on him, though Sam's voice dropped down a notch, at least - more disappointed than angry at his little brother.

“And what the hell were you thinking coming back for me, huh?”

“What was I supposed to do?” Nate cried. “You’d have come back for me.”

“I- That’s different,” Sam stammered.

_Trying to reason with him is like hitting a brick wall..._

And Sully was tired of fighting. He risked a punch in the face and reached out to lay a steadying hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You really think we were just gonna leave you there?” Sully said, his voice softening. He felt Sam slouch a little beneath his hand. “How about you accept a little help for once in your life, huh?”

Sam looked from one face to another and saw that he was beat. He sank down onto the arm of the couch.

Not for the first time, Sully wondered what the hell had happened to Sam that made him think he had to take on the world single-handedly.

“We’re staying, Sam,” Nate said firmly, bending down to fix his brother with the same look Sam gave him when he meant business. “You’re gonna rest. Sully’s gonna sell the scabbard for us. And he’s getting a fair share, too. We're gonna do this properly. Like professionals, okay?”

Sam stared at his little brother’s determined expression in shocked admiration then jerked his chin upward in a tiny nod. “Okay. Then what?”

“Then we get as far away as we can from Petersen,” Sully said pointedly, “And we find something shiny to line our pockets.”

Sam’s smile was slow but genuine. “Alright, old man,” he said.

Sully let it pass, just this once.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I’m sure I can come up with something worth your time," Sully said, giving him a gentle cuff round the head (and felt only slightly guilty at the wince it produced). "But first, take your meds before I break your other hand.”


	8. To Those We've Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains references to suicide.

The scabbard more than paid for their next trip, and with Sully’s firm hand at the tiller, the three of them pulled off another handful of jobs with what could more or less be called success. There were a couple of close calls, of course, but that was nothing new. The boys seemed to thrive off the risk and Sully couldn’t help getting swept up in their seemingly boundless energy. Jobs that Sully would have normally turned down for being too complex, too perilous, too ambitious, suddenly seemed possible with the Drake brothers in tow.

They were learning, too, how to work as a team instead of a pair. Learning how to trust one another. The brothers’ 'us against the world’ mindset may well have kept them both alive for the past ten years but things were different now. Now they had Sully to watch both their backs. And Nate really wasn’t a kid any more. At seventeen, he was growing bolder – cocky, even - and more confident in his judgements. At eighteen, he became less afraid to contradict his brother and, even more surprisingly, Sam started to listen to him. After the Petersen affair, Sam had acquired a little more patience; a little more humility. Instead of trying to call the shots and expecting his little brother to obey without question, Sam began to defer to the opinions of his partners - even if he didn’t always agree with them. 

Sully, for his part, proved his worth through his wealth of connections, his ability to sweet talk his way out of a sticky situation, and – if it came down to it – his extra twenty-years’ worth of experience fighting dirty to get them out of a tight corner. Most of all, they all discovered the benefits of having three pairs of eyes, three pairs of hands, and three minds to puzzle things out. They fell into certain roles without discussion: Sully was the best tactician, but Sam was the best pickpocket, and Nate could climb pretty much anything he looked at. Gradually, trust grew into respect, and they settled into a comfortable sort of familiarity.

He no longer worried so much about losing touch with the pair. What he worried about was their propensity for finding the most troublesome situation possible and jumping right into it. They still thought they were invincible but Sully knew better. He’d patched them both up more times than he could count, but each time they brushed off injuries and losses like it was all a game.

_It’s gonna catch up with you sometime, boys…_

Sully generally tried to avoid taking a paternal role but sometimes the age difference was starkly clear as he watched the boys grow into men. Sully was wholly glad he hadn’t had to go through the whole birds ‘n’ bees talk with Nate but now the kid was at an age where a few tactful words of guidance wouldn’t go amiss. It wasn’t that he had a problem getting girls; he had a problem getting taken advantage of. More than once the kid had found himself robbed blind for the sake of a few minutes’ of heavy breathing down an alleyway. Not that Sully and Sam were particularly good examples, but observing Nate negotiate his romantic entanglements was like watching an impending train wreck – either the kid would get his heart broken, his face slapped, or find himself high-tailing it out of a window in his underwear. 

By the time he was nineteen, Nate had found his own unique sort of charm – one very different from his brother’s. When girls looked at Sam they knew exactly what kind of boy he was – the kind who said all the right things but never kept his word; the kind who knew how to handle himself but didn’t know how to be serious about how he felt. When girls looked at Nate they only saw the soft edges – he had just as much arrogance as his brother but it was tempered with a cute kind of clumsiness, like a puppy that hadn’t quite grown into its paws. He fell hard, loved furiously, and then lost interest or pushed his luck too far. Every hook-up inevitably ended up with Nate sheepishly regaling his partners with his latest spectacular failure over drinks while Sam and Sully shook their heads and exchanged knowing looks.

Sam, meanwhile, was surprisingly reticent about his exploits, despite never passing up an opportunity to flirt or give a potential mark the eye. “Didn’t work out,” or “Not the one for me,” was all he’d say after disappearing for the night. The only time Sully saw Sam show any kind of real regret was after a spell in Cuba when he’d been hunkered up in the library researching Cortés and certain unaccounted-for treasures dating back to the conquistadors. A young librarian called Teresa had taken pity on Sam's inability to decipher the catalogue system and Sully and Nate had barely seen him for the next two weeks. But then Nate had come across a clear lead on an irresistible haul and it was time to move on. Faced with Sam’s crestfallen expression, Sully had suggested they give it another few weeks but Sam had shaken his head and plastered on a false smile, making his excuses and heading back to the library one last time to break the news to Teresa.

He didn’t come back that night but turned up at the airstrip the next morning, bags packed, ready to go, looking like he'd been walking the streets 'til dawn. He’d barely spoken for the next couple of days, and when he did it was generally to snap and snipe at the other two.

“It’s just a job,” Sully told him, one evening, when Sam had been nursing the same drink for over an hour and Nate had turned in early. “We can go back to Cuba when we’re finished here.”

But Sam had given an angry little shake of his head. “It’s done. Over.” He slouched in his seat and picked at a loose splinter on the edge of the table. “Can’t stay in one place too long, anyhow. Isn't that the golden rule?”

Sully sighed. He’d been in Sam’s shoes more than once before. It still surprised him that Carolina welcomed him back each time he rocked up at the bar after their history, but then again, their twenties were long behind them and over the years passion had matured into companionship.

“Listen. It won’t always hurt this much,” Sully tried, “Just ‘cause she’s mad now, doesn’t mean she won’t miss you. And hey, if we pull off this job you’ll have a little cash to flash next time we’re there…”

Sam knocked back his drink, shoved his chair back and fumbled with his cigarettes, stumbling away from the table and pointedly avoiding Sully’s eyes. “I don’t need a lecture, Victor.”

Sully conceded with a nod. “Alright. I’m just sayin’-”

“Well don’t,” Sam snapped. “We’ve got a job to do. Let’s focus on that, huh?”

And that’s what it came down to every time, in the end. Neither brother would hesitate to drop everything – including their growing lists of vengeful women – at the prospect of a new treasure hunt. For Nate, nothing trumped the thrill of a fresh job, and the girls he met on his downtime were so far removed from his world it was hard for him to find a connection more meaningful than keeping their mattress warm for a night or two. And as for Sam, well, after Cuba, he deliberately avoided any kind of relationship that had the potential to last more than a few days.

Sully was in no position to give them a lecture about keeping it in their pants or taking things more seriously, but there were times that he suspected the boys were self-sabotaging their chances at settling down on purpose. They were always a little too eager to get started on the next quest, like adventuring was an itch they just couldn’t scratch.

But not all jobs went to plan. The times when they were flush came few and far between, and scraping up bail money became a regular task as their exploits became increasingly risky. Once, all three of them ended up in a Moroccan jail, and though they were used to living in close quarters, being locked up together for a long, irritable three months was one step too far. They never quite came to an agreement about exactly whose fault it was that they’d ended up there. Sam was convinced it was down to Sully’s failure to carry out background checks on their double-crossing contact, whereas Sully maintained the view that if Sam hadn’t insisted they escape the scene of the crime via the cellars they never would have been caught. Nate refused to take a side but despite his mediation it eventually reached the point where blows as well as words were exchanged. By the end of the sentence their jailers were relieved to be rid of the bickering, squabbling trio, and they unanimously decided it was time to take a break.

Maybe some time apart would do them all good, Sully thought, and wasn’t the least bit surprised when Nate automatically followed after his brother. He could do with some respite from chasing after the pair of them. A little breathing time. They were big enough and ugly enough to look after themselves and it felt good to have his own space. To be alone. It was something of a relief to only have himself to think about for a while.

And then, suddenly, it wasn’t.

***

Six months later Carolina called Nate in an uncharacteristic panic, begging them to come to the bar. Sully was in a bad way. He’d been drinking like he was trying to drown and locked himself away in his room, refusing to let anyone in.

They’d dropped everything to get there and Carolina wrapped them both in an urgent hug the moment they stepped through the door.

“It was an old Navy buddy,” she told them, “Guy called Wallis. Sully checks in on him from time to time when he’s in town.” She glanced sadly up at the ceiling as if she could see through it to Sully’s room. “He doesn’t talk about those days much – not the serious stuff, at least. But they were close. And…” Her eyes filled with tears and Nate reached out to take her hand as she explained.

Wallis had left a note addressed to Sully before downing a bottle of scotch and putting a gun in his mouth. Sully had been the one to find him. He’d returned to the bar, his shirt smeared with his friend’s blood, and hadn’t left his room since.

“Do you have a spare key?” Sam asked Carolina but she shook her head.

“If I hadn’t got hold of you two I was about to take the door off its hinges but I figured you’d find another way in.”

Nate and Sam exchanged a nod and quickly found an alternative route, out to the back alley, up a drainpipe and in through the bathroom window.

Sully didn’t seem surprised to see them. He barely reacted to their presence, sitting motionless in his armchair, eyes red raw, staring sightlessly into the darkness. In one hand he held a crumpled up piece of paper; the other hand gripped a glass of whisky as if it was the only real thing in the world.

“Hey, Sully,” Nate said softly as he approached the man cautiously.

Sully blinked but didn’t reply.

“Carolina’s worried about you.”

Nate crouched down in front of him and laid a hand on his arm. Sully twitched at the contact and his eyes regained focus as he looked down at the kid. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and thin.

“Funeral’s on Saturday.” Sully swallowed. “I don’t know if I can…” His fist tightened on the note and he moved to take a sip of his drink but Nate held his wrist still.

“That’s not gonna help,” the kid said firmly, prying it out of Sully’s fingers and passing it behind him to Sam.

Sully seemed to crumple, hunching forward and taking in great heaving breaths. Nate raised himself out of his crouch and pulled Sully into his chest, holding him tight. Sully marvelled at how big the kid had gotten as Nate’s strong hands rubbed circles on his back. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed the two of them – hadn’t been able to think about much at all the past few days except how quickly he could get to the bottom of a bottle. Wallis’ reasons for leaving this world were painfully close to how he felt sometimes – part of the reason he took the risks he did in their line of work – sometimes you needed the risk of death to make yourself feel alive. But ever since the Drakes had barrelled into his life, he’d had something more to live for. Something worth staying around for.

He scrubbed at his face and leaned back, taking in the sight of the two brothers. They were both watching him with concern – Sam hanging back at the edge of the room, Nate beside Sully’s chair – their eyes full of shared pain.

Sully hung his head. He must look a mess. The bloodstained clothes he’d been wearing when he’d found Wallis still lay in a heap on the floor. Empty bottles littered the bedside table. A tray of food, untouched, was starting to gather mould under the bed.

“You didn’t have to come,” he said, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Yeah, we did,” Sam replied with a sad little smile.

Nate patted him on the shoulder. “Partners, right?”

Sully nodded his thanks, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

***

They’d passed the rest of the day in near silence, the brothers working together in seamless synchronicity to get Sully cleaned up, sober, and properly fed. Nate hadn’t left his side, and Sam had taken orders from his little brother without question, even managing to find them all suits for the funeral. It was strange to see each other dressed so smartly – the only other times they ever scrubbed up was to con their way into some high-class function in order to infiltrate or rob the place. Still, it made Sully proud to have his boys either side of him, looking like men all of a sudden, both of them taller than him, faces set in respectful reverence – a distinct difference from their usual sarcastic grins. Their mere presence kept him upright, and their quiet support got him through the service and out the other side. Carolina had organised a wake at the bar, and though there had only been a handful of people at the funeral, Sully spent the evening surrounded by old friends and memories. The boys kept a respectful distance but were always there, ready with a fresh drink or just a passing squeeze of his arm.

Gradually, the bar emptied, leaving the three of them at their usual booth in the back corner. Despite the free-flowing booze, none of them were particularly drunk – the effects of the alcohol dampened by the sombre occasion. Sam toyed with his lighter while Nate sketched on a napkin. Sully watched them as he smoked his cigar down to a stump. They’d come to help him without a moment’s hesitation. They’d handled his grief with almost disturbing ease – there was no awkwardness or pity – just a quiet kind of understanding that said: _You’re not alone_. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, and received twin nods in reply. Sully studied the smouldering end of his cigar. "Been to enough funerals for one lifetime. You'd think it'd get easier. But this one..." He still had the crumpled note from Wallis in his pocket and he smoothed it out on the table in front of him. Both boys stared at it. Sully shook his head. "Just keep thinking - if I'd got there earlier..."

"Don't think about the 'what ifs'," Nate recited, his eyes suddenly stony.

Sam nodded his agreement. He was swiping his fingers slowly through the flame of his zippo, grimacing at the heat as he held them there longer than was comfortable. "It's always worse for the ones left behind," he said quietly.

Sully only knew a small portion of the boys’ history but the fact they’d ended up in an orphanage suggested they’d learned more than they should have known about death at a young age. He'd never pushed for more information - he knew the Drakes' secrets were tightly protected and unravelled in their own sweet time - but a silent agreement seemed to pass between the brothers and Nate cleared his throat. 

"Our mom... When we were kids... She got sick."

He glanced to his brother for help. Sam snapped his lighter closed and tapped it on the table absently, his face a mask of buried emotion. "She was in a lot of pain. Didn't want to be a 'burden'." Sam spat out the word bitterly, and Sully remembered the few brief times Nate had mentioned their dad. He'd never had much good to say.

Sam took a long breath and then let it out with a shrug. "She made a choice. I don't know if it was the right one, but it was hers." He lifted his eyes to Sully's for a moment then down at the note on the table. "Doesn't make it any easier. But you have to respect the decision."

Sully's eyes were wet. He'd thought he was all out of tears, but these weren't just for Wallis. 

"I'm glad you're here," he said again, raising his glass to the centre of the table. The boys added their own drinks to the toast with a soft series of clinks and the three of them drank to those they'd lost, and the family they'd found.

***

Without discussion, they spent the rest of the year together. None of them really went in for Christmas celebrations but this year they made an effort, decorating one of Sully's safehouses with tinsel and a laughably bare fake tree Nate had found in a skip. They didn't usually do gifts, either, but on Christmas morning there were three presents under the tree, as if by magic. Nate had torn his open before they'd even made coffee - acting more like a six-year-old than twenty - and revealed a pocket-sized sketchbook and set of charcoals. He'd thanked Sully with a caricature of him smoking a cigar and cooking Christmas dinner in an apron that said "kiss the cook" - even though in reality they were only planning on getting takeout.

Sam's gift was a guitar; a combined effort from Sully and Nate, after a fleeting mention of him missing the one used to have at St Francis'. He stared at it in shock for half a minute before a gleeful grin creased his face and he spent the rest of the day tucked into a corner of the couch retraining his fingers.

Sully eyed the remaining gift suspiciously. It had his name on, in Nate's scrawling hand. "Well, go on," the kid prompted, passing it over. It was a book, by the size and feel of it. Sully nodded his thanks before he even started unwrapping it, expecting some kind of joke present like 'Zen and the Art of Moustache Maintenance', but the moment he tore the paper he knew it was more than that. He recognised that off-white leather binding immediately. The mysterious notebook.

The brothers watched him nervously as he flicked through it, trying to make sense of the scribbled notes. Nate was almost bouncing with contained excitement. Sam had a conflicted smile on his face.

"Pirate treasure, huh?" Sully said, after he'd got the general gist. "Where the hell d'you get this?"

"It was our mom's," Nate explained. "We've been trying to finish her research. She was the one who thought Drake had heirs..."

_This is where it all started._

"You think it's real? The gunsway haul? It's really still out there?" Sully asked carefully. He didn't want to offend them but it all seemed just a too little far fetched. Even for them. 

The brothers nodded in unison. "We've triple checked everything in there," Sam said, a hungry look in his eyes. "We're just missing a few pieces of the puzzle. But... we think we've got a new lead."

He nodded to his little brother and Nate pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and laid it on top of the book in Sully's hands. It was a photocopy of an ancient drawing - a tower with bars on the windows, set into a rocky landscape.

"Panama," Nate explained. "An abandoned Spanish prison. The last resting place of Avery's first mate, Burnes. If there's any clue to what happened to the treasure, it'll be there."

Sully looked from one brother to another. This was the one - the one they'd been after since forever. This was their mother's legacy. The legend they'd based their entire lives on.

 _Boys playing at pirates_. 

"So?" Sam said, plucking a few chords on the guitar. "Are you in?"

Sully couldn't help smiling. The three of them together could pull off anything. How could he say no?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, wow, this chapter got super sad super quick, I'm so sorry. But sometimes Sully needs looking after too. Can't promise it's gonna get much happier in the next few instalments, either. Only a few years left until Panama... Prepare thy feels.


	9. What's The Worst That Could Happen?

If Sully had thought the boys’ obsession with Francis Drake had been intense, it was nothing compared to their passion for Avery. Their focus was all-consuming. And, now that Sully was finally in on the big secret, the brothers let nothing hold them back in their pursuit of the Gunsway Heist.

It was hard not to get caught up in the thrill of the hunt, despite every lead being as insubstantial as the next. With Sully’s help, they scoped out the fort in panama but it was a no-go; a forgotten ruin, set within the perimeter of a modern jail, completely cut off from the mainland and impossible to access. No matter how they looked at it, there was no way to get anywhere near the site. The prison was high security, crawling with armed guards, and though the brothers were more than eager to try their luck with a covert mission, Sully didn’t like their odds. Not at all.

Something about the quest felt off to him. _Hinky_. Now that he had the boys back under his wing he wanted to keep them that way, but the two of them were relentless - and, convinced they were nearing the end of their lifelong quest, they grew more and more frustrated. Desperate, even. 

_Which is when you start to make mistakes._

For a long while they were stumped. Sully tried to indulge them, sinking the last of his savings into ferrying the boys from museum to museum, university to university, library to library, poring over every text they could get their hands on, but each clue just brought them back to Panama. 

“We should at least give it a shot,” Sam said, during their millionth discussion of why attempting to sneak around a bunch of guards armed with machine guns wasn’t such a good idea.

“Yeah, what’s the worst that could happen?” Sully replied drily.

Sam shot him an unimpressed look and took a drag of his cigarette, blowing out a stream of smoke with a sigh. “It’s _right there_. Right there, just waiting for us to find it! It’s worth the risk.” 

“Worth getting your ass shot? Or thrown in jail?”

Sam shrugged. “We’ve got out of tighter spots.”

“This is a class A joint, Sam,” Sully explained, tired of repeating the same old excuses, tired of not being listened to. “No one’s getting out of there without some serious cash and some serious firepower.”

Sam eyed him shrewdly. The kid had never stopped trying to challenge his authority, even after all these years. Even after all the scrapes Sully had pulled him out of by the scruff of his stupid neck.

“Yeah, well if you’d let _me_ deal with negotiations for that last job I could’ve got us at least twenty grand more, easy. You caved, Victor.”

“Oho, you think so?” Sully laughed coldly, “Those guys weren’t up for bartering. We’d have walked right out of there with nothing.”

Sam shook his head, stabbing out his cigarette. “You’re a soft touch, Sullivan,” he muttered. “And people are starting to notice.”

Sully was about to give the guy a piece of his mind when Nate suddenly jerked his head up from his journal with one of those lightning bolt looks of his.

“That’s not a bad idea, you know.”

“What?” the other two asked in unison, then frowned at one another.

Nate’s eyes were glittering. “Getting _into_ the prison. As inmates. We’d have easy access to the old fort-”

“Easy?!” Sully said incredulously but Nate waved him into silence. 

“Think about it," the kid said eagerly, "An inside job. We get ourselves thrown in there on some minor charge, bribe a guard or two, find a way to the tower, and boom.”

 _Like it’s ever that simple._  

Sully rolled his eyes. “And how, exactly, do we get out again?”

Sam gave his brother a sideways smile. “Cold, hard cash.” Nate grinned back.

Sully hated when the two of them ganged up on him.

“You got a winning lottery ticket I don’t know about?” Sully asked them, “’Cause I’m tellin’ you boys, we’re scraping the barrel right now. We’ve barely got enough to get the plane refueled as it is.”

Sam shrugged, “I might know a guy.”

Nate’s face lit up but Sully only felt a growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.

_That’s what I’m worried about._

***

Sully had heard of Rafe Adler, or rather, he’d heard about his family’s sprawling business empire – an all too familiar name in the black market antiquities business. Adler Junior was a few years younger than Nate but already had a reputation in the industry for being a slick, charming, and ruthless acquisitions ‘expert’, desperate to make a name for himself, though most of his successes were down to his family’s ability to solve any sticky issues with a torrent of money. There were darker rumours, too. The brat had a nasty temper, and the belief that he could get away with pretty much anything he wanted so long as Daddy was prepared to pay for any indiscretions to 'disappear'.

Sully told the brothers as much, but Sam dismissed his concerns, maintaining that Adler was just a jumped up suit with aspirations of treasure hunting infamy. He was a money man, nothing more. Nate was a little more reticent, uncomfortable with sharing Avery’s secrets with someone they barely knew, but after almost three years of hitting dead end after dead end with the Panama job he was prepared to take that risk. 

They met their potential investor at a predictably swish hotel on the Cartegenian waterfront. Adler had rented a high rise suite and a couple of bodyguards flanked the trio as they made their way up in a private elevator.

Nate straightened his shirt and tried to smooth down his wayward hair in the mirrored wall. “Anyone else feelin’ a little underdressed?” he muttered.

Sam scoffed, but Sully could see a little wariness in his eyes, too.

“You look a million bucks, kid,” Sully said, trying to hide his own anxiety as the doors slid open with a soft ‘ding’ and they were led into a decadent lounge looking over the bay.

“Make that four hundred million bucks,” Sam added under his breath with a wink at his brother.

“Samuel!” Rafe stood to greet them. He was shorter than all three of them, but expertly dressed to emphasise the efforts of his personal trainer in casually expensive designerwear.

“Rafe,” Sam nodded politely, then gestured to his partners. “My brother, Nathan. And this is Victor Sullivan.”

Rafe’s eyes slid from face to face, passing over Nate and settling on Sully with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Sullivan. Your reputation precedes you.”

Sully matched the false smile. “Is that right?”

“Lotta stories floatin’ around about Victor ‘goddamn’ Sullivan,” Rafe said with a laugh, herding them further into the lounge. “Though, way I heard it, you always preferred to work alone…” Rafe glanced at the other two with another conspiratorial grin. “What are you doing working with these two? You tryin’ to muscle in on this Avery thing?”

Sully maintained a mild expression. He wasn’t in the least bit surprised Rafe was trying to rile him. The brat probably figured he could manipulate the Drake brothers easily enough, but knew that shit wouldn’t fly with an old hat like Sully.

“Sully’s an old friend,” Nate interjected protectively. “We’re just looking for a backer.”

Rafe waved over an assistant to pour them all drinks and settled back on the couch with an idle kind of ease. “Ah yes, you need a wealthy benefactor to get you in and out of prison, right? Not gonna be cheap…” He shot Sully another of those sharky smiles, “But I’m guessing your retirement fund won’t cover it, huh?”

Sully ignored him, politely thanking the assistant as she passed him a glass of bourbon on the rocks. He wasn’t about to give Rafe the satisfaction of reacting.

Sam leaned forward on his chair, drink dangling between his knees, eager to get to business. “Everything’s in place, Rafe – we just need the finances to cover the logistics. We’ll do the rest. And we’ll be back here within the month. A four-way split.”

Rafe made a ticking noise with his teeth. “See, there’s just one thing," he said, in that nasal drawl of his. "I consider it good business practice to protect my investments. So... if I’m gonna put up the money for this, I’m gonna wanna work a little closer with you boys. On the ground floor, as it were.”

Sam hesitated and Nate looked perturbed. “You… wanna come with us?”

Sully let out a low chuckle. “No offence, Rafe, but you don’t exactly strike me as the prison type…”

Rafe’s eyes suddenly turned shrewd and steely. “Maybe not. But I’m the only one who’s able to get you in there." 

A tense silence descended. Rafe broke it with a throwaway laugh and a swig of his drink. “Small price to pay for a little peace of mind, right?”

Peace of mind wasn't exactly what was going through Sully's head right then, but it wasn’t his call to make. He raised an eyebrow at Nate who seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Sam refused to look at either of them. “That seems fair,” he said to Rafe, shrugging. “We could use a third man.”

Rafe spread his arms, “More the merrier.”

“Uh. Maybe we should talk about this-” Nate muttered to his brother.

“Right,” Sully said cautiously, “No sense rushing into anything…”

“Rush?” Sam snapped, turning to his brother, eyes burning into his. “We’ve been chasing this thing for years. And now we finally have a chance…”

Nate grimaced under his scrutiny. “I know, Sam, but… The plan… We didn’t factor in-”

“It’s an extra risk we don’t need,” Sully cut in flatly, giving Rafe a measured look. “I’m sure you think you're up to it but these boys have experience. They know what they’re doing. All we need is the cash.”

Sam shot Sully a furious glance but Sully was sure that Nate looked relieved.

Rafe let out a soft laugh and toyed with his glass. “And what exactly is your part in all of this?” he asked Sully, then pointed at Nate and Sam, “The way I see it, these two are doing all the work… They’ve got the research. They’re the ones putting their lives on the line. So, what is it that _you’re_ contributing, Victor?”

“I’m handling the exit strategy,” Sully replied through gritted teeth.

Rafe nodded condescendingly, “Ahh yes, your little sea plane... Cute.” He focused his attention on Sam once more, well aware of how best to manipulate the room. “I'll tell you what. I'll throw in a ride out of there, too. No extra cost. An armed escort, even. You’re gonna need more protection than one old man and a rusty old relic of a plane…”

Sully was losing them, he could feel it. Sam managed an apologetic look. Nate at least tried a weak smile. Sully jaw ached with the effort of not snapping a response.

Rafe noticed his expression and his smirk widened. “Just tryin' to be practical. Not tryin’ to cut you out, you understand.”

Sully let out a long steadying breath. _Okay, if that’s how you wanna play it._

“Sure. I understand.” He knocked back half his drink in one shot and tipped his glass at the brothers. “You two really think it’s ‘practical’ to have to babysit some trust fund brat while you’re in there? This isn’t some corporate team building exercise.”

The insult had the desired effect. Rafe bristled, a flush creeping up his neck to colour his cheeks. His lips pressed together in a tight smile. A dangerous smile.

“I can handle myself,” Adler said in a low voice.

And, at that moment, Sully didn’t doubt it. Even more reason he didn’t want his boys mixed up with him.

Sam was staring at them both with a desperate expression, conscious that their one lifeline was rapidly slipping away. He tried a half-hearted laugh. “Rafe, look, maybe we should discuss this-”

Rafe’s phone buzzed and he checked the screen, ignoring Sam’s entreaty. “Sure, sure, you have a little discussion. You know my terms: if you want the money, I want _in._ ” He got to his feet, gesturing lazily with his phone. “Yes or no, it really doesn’t matter to me. Now I know where to look, I’m going after Avery’s treasure - with or without you. The only difference is, I have the means to do it.”

Sully felt Nate tense beside him and clamped down a hand on his shoulder to stop him springing up and decking the guy.

Rafe tilted his head with an mock-apologetic look, “I just thought I’d give you a chance to join me. Always useful to have a couple of ‘experts’ on my team.”

His phone was still buzzing and he held it up. “Look, I’m gonna take this. You talk it over.” And with that, he answered the call, turned and headed out to the balcony, talking smoothly into the phone like the businessman he was.

Sully watched him for a second. The brat had poise, that was for sure. And the money to back up his threats. They should never have got involved…

“Victor, what the hell?” Sam hissed, a vicious expression on his face. “Are you _trying_ to fuck this up for us?”

Nate looked sideways at his brother, shaking his head, “Sam, you really wanna work with someone who’s trying to blackmail us?”

“He’s bluffing,” Sam said dismissively, “He’s just used to getting his own way.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Sully growled. “What happens if he decides to change the plan once you’re in there? You gonna tell him ‘no’ when your asses are on the line?”

Sam gave an exasperated sigh, “Like it or not, Rafe is the only one who can finance this. He’s professional. He’s discreet. He has a reputation to protect. He’s not gonna screw us over.”

Sully was more than used to arguing with Sam by now but it didn't make it any easier. And he also knew his odds of winning were slim. He kept his voice as level and calm as possible. “You don’t think he’ll drop you the second he has what he wants? I thought this was your legacy. You really want to share it with _him_?

Nate looked uncomfortably at his brother. “He’s got a point.”

Sam attempted a confident grin. “And who says we’re not gonna drop _him_ when the time is right?”

Sully dropped his head into his hands. _Kid’s out of his depth and in over his head…_

“Sam,” he reasoned, “You don’t know these people. The Adler family practically _runs_ the black market. You do not wanna piss him off.”

“So let’s give him what he wants!” Sam said, “You heard him, he can handle himself. And he’s got money to burn. So what if he wants a taste of adventure? The plan doesn’t change. We get in, we find the fort, we get out. What’s the worst that could happen?”

The worst didn’t bear thinking about.

But their conversation was cut short as the balcony door slid open and Rafe stepped back in, beaming at the three of them like old friends. “So. Where were we?”

Adler scanned the faces before him: Sam serious as a heart attack; Nate wavering with indecision; Sully grim and unimpressed.

“Oh yeah,” Rafe said, “Victor here was calling me a… what was it? A ‘trust fund brat’.” He let out a little barking laugh and turned to the two brothers. “Well? Do you agree with Sullivan here? Or do you want to get this job on the road?”

_Who’re you gonna choose? The guy who’s been watching your back the last eight years or some smarmy prick with more money than sense?_

Both Drakes looked at Sully, but with very different expressions: Sam's was a challenge; Nate was wracked with guilt.

Sully gave them a brief, weary smile and a shrug. “This is your gig. Your 'legacy'. You decide what’s best.”

Rafe lips pursed in satisfaction.

And Sully already knew what the answer would be. But he didn't have to like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so the title is a little cruel. SORRY/NOTSORRY. 
> 
> All aboard the Rafe train, you glorious bastard.
> 
> Aaaand the next chapter is gonna be... tough. (sorry/notsorry)


	10. Picking Up The Pieces

They didn’t talk much on the way back across town to their own, more modest accommodation. The rest of the meeting had been short and to the point once the boys had accepted Rafe’s ‘offer’. Sully had kept his mouth shut, afraid he’d lose them forever if he said what he really thought, but the satisfied expression on Rafe’s face made him want to smash something. 

Back at their place, the atmosphere was so thick you could stir it with a spoon. He tried to be happy for them, tried to swallow down his pride and encourage them to celebrate their shiny new opportunity, but he knew he was pissing on their parade. The two brothers kept exchanging those telepathic looks of theirs as they sat at the kitchen table and went over and over the plan, and Sully felt a million miles removed.

He sat on the porch and took his time over a cigar, racking his brains for some way to turn things around. But there was nothing he could do to change their minds. Nothing he could do to protect them from the danger they were about to walk into. Nothing he could do but wait, and hope, and trust the dumb luck that had tailed them this long would continue to do so.

He didn’t hear them come out. The kid sat beside him, the white journal resting in his lap. Sam lingered in the doorway, lighting a cigarette and letting out a long slow breath.

“Sully, we’re sorry,” Nate said softly.

Sully could feel Nate looking at him but couldn’t quite bring himself to meet his eyes. He focused on the dirt at his feet instead. He appreciated the sentiment, even if every instinct in his body was screaming out to tell them they were idiots.

“Don’t worry about it, kid.”

“We did what we had to, okay?” Sam murmured from the doorway.

Sully nodded. “I just hope you know what you’ve got yourselves into.”

He glanced up at the two of them. Behind those sheepish expressions and those guilty apologies he could hear that old familiar hunger for adventure loud and clear. They clearly felt bad about the way Rafe had treated Sully, but it couldn’t compare to the knowledge that they were one step closer to their goal.

“This might be our only chance,” Nate said, as if that made it any better.

Sully sighed. He knew how much Avery’s treasure meant to them both. Hell, they’d practically hardwired the quest into their very existence – it was all that had kept them going through the toughest times – and who was he to try to take that away from them?

“I get it,” Sully said gruffly. “But… you might as well count me out. Split the money three ways with Adler. He clearly doesn’t want me involved and I don’t wanna make it more complicated than it already is.”

Nate looked across at him, confusion in his eyes. “Sully…”

Sully shook his head. “Look, I’ll still be here to pick up the pieces when you’re done but I don’t want anything to do with that little prick. And if you’ve got any sense at all you’ll keep a close eye on him in there.”

Sam attempted a cocky smile. “We can handle Rafe.”

“Yeah,” Nate said, jostling Sully with his shoulder. “We’ve dealt with worse, right? You’re getting paranoid in your old age." 

Sully snorted, but worry still nagged at his guts. They were still so young. So naive. They thought they were untouchable.

“Maybe so,” he said quietly. “Just… look out for each other, okay?”

 

***

 

_They’ll be back. They always come back._

It was the waiting he couldn’t cope with. The boys had been ‘incarcerated’ for two weeks now and Sully still hadn’t heard a word – even though Nate had assured him that Rafe’s people would keep in touch.

They’d spent their last night of freedom overcompensating for the prospect of a month without alcohol. The boys had tactfully turned down Rafe’s offer to stay at the hotel, choosing instead to stay with Sully and work their way through a bottle of tequila, making grand plans about how they were going to spend their share of the money.

Sully let them talk. He could sense the apprehension beneath their bravado but didn’t want to acknowledge it. That would’ve made it too real.

As the sun went down he watched the brothers poring over their mother’s journal, as if they hadn’t got the whole damn thing memorised already. It was a familiar sight – the two of them with their heads together, talking in undertones, the occasional spark of an idea raising their voices and brightening their eyes. He’d miss this. He’d miss them. And no matter how many times he tried to convince himself it was just another job, just a couple of weeks apart, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to go horribly, terribly wrong.

_Maybe they’re right. Maybe I'm just getting old and overcautious._

Nate snapped him out of his thoughts, sliding the journal across the table and into Sully’s hands. “You’ll keep it safe for us?” Nate asked, with a flash of innocence that reminded him of that scared fifteen-year-old boy he'd once known. He was a man now, Sully reminded himself, he could take care of himself. And he'd have Sam with him.

Sully nodded sombrely. “You know I will.”

He stared at the grubby white cover and a sickening thought popped into his head. What if they didn’t come back and this was all he’d have left to remember them by? He shook the idea away as Sam clapped him on the back cheerfully.

“With any luck, we won’t even need it once we’ve found whatever’s in that fort.”

“Right,” Sully muttered.

_Kid, you’re gonna need all the luck you can get._

 

***

 

Two weeks. Then three. Sully was starting to lose his mind with all the ‘what ifs’. They’d been apart for much longer in the past – months at a time on occasion – but this was different. This time he knew exactly what they were up to and what sort of trouble they were facing. Not just surviving in a violent Panamanian prison, or clambering around a half-collapsed fort – he knew they were more than capable of both those things – no, it was Rafe that worried him. The smarmy little fly in the ointment. He knew how people like that saw other people. Like tools. Like they were expendable. He didn’t doubt that Rafe would sell the Drakes out the moment things got hairy. He just hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He had to trust the boys knew what they were doing.

He had to hope.

And wait. 

And wait.

And try not to go crazy.

 

***

 

On the day of their ‘arrest’ he’d driven them to meet Rafe and his freshly-bribed prison officials. The boys were uncharacteristically quiet, and Sully had very little left to say to them, aside from “please, don’t go”...

He gripped the steering wheel tighter as they approached the rendezvous point, wishing he could just keep on driving, take them far away from Rafe Adler’s world, far away from all of this. But it was too late for that now.

None of them were any good at goodbyes. There were too many things to say and not enough words.

“Good luck,” was all Sully could manage as they loitered beside the car, waiting for Rafe to arrive.

Nate enveloped him in a brief hug. The kid was a man now, taller than Sully at twenty-three, and long gone was the scrappy little teenager he'd met in Cartegena. 

Sam stood slightly apart, always uncomfortable with these kinds of moments, eyes down, hands entwined.

Sully gave him a nod and a stern look. “You watch out for yourselves," he said, then nodded at Nate, "Especially this one.” 

“Always do,” Sam said with a small smile.

“We’re gonna be fine, Sully,” Nate laughed.

He wanted to believe the kid but a shiver passed through him as Rafe’s car pulled up behind them and the brothers headed over to it.

Sully watched them go, feeling as if a part of him was being torn away. Nate turned to give one last wave, one last grin. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

 

***

Three weeks.

Four.

Sully hadn’t left the rental apartment for days, staring at the phone, waiting for a knock at the door. But when the moment finally came he wished he could have stayed in the purgatory of unknowing forever.

It was past midnight when a tap came at the window - almost too quiet to be heard. Sully bolted out of his chair and tore open the door, but Rafe’s was the first face he saw and he had to resist the urge to throw a punch.

The brat wasn’t wearing his usual smirk. He looked uncertain. Scared, even. And that was the first warning sign.

Nate stood behind him – the pair of them still in their blue denim prison fatigues – grimy and scraped up and bloody. It took Sully a moment to figure out what was wrong with the picture – what was missing – until Nate looked up and he saw his face in the light. The kid was hollow-eyed – pretty much hollowed out entirely – and seemed on the verge of collapse.

When Nate’s eyes met Sully’s, the kid’s chest started heaving, as if he'd been holding back the flood until that moment. Rafe steered him towards the door and stepped away, leaving Nate standing before Sully, swaying slightly. He seemed to be having trouble breathing, trouble speaking; his mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. Sully was almost afraid to touch him. The silence seemed to last forever. Sully wished it had.

_Don’t say it. Don’t make it real._

“Sam…” Nate managed, in a hoarse whisper, before choking on his next words and all but folding in half.

It was enough. The rest of the sentence hung in the air like a black cloud.

_He's gone._

Sully grabbed the kid around the neck and pulled him inside, slamming the door in Rafe’s face.

 

***

 

Nate barely made it across the threshold before his legs gave out and he slid down the wall to the floor, his arms wrapped around his knees as if he was physically trying to hold himself together.

Sully crouched beside him, mute with shock, unable to comprehend what his brain was telling him.

_This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening._

Nate’s vision was unfocused, staring at the opposite wall, his head bobbing slightly with each hitched breath. Sully laid a hand on his forearm, trying to steady him - trying to steady himself. “Kid…”

Tears brimmed in Nate’s eyes and he screwed up his face, turning away as a gasping sob escaping his lips. “I couldn’t… I tried, Sully. I couldn’t hold onto him.”

Sully slumped down to the floor next to Nate and threaded an arm around the kid’s shuddering shoulders. Nate was crying freely now, forehead pressed into his knees, mostly silent aside from the occasional harrowing intake of breath.

Sully could barely swallow past the lump in his throat. There was nothing he could say that would come close to comfort. There was nothing that could be said at all. He felt the burning heat of tears on his own cheeks but didn’t bother to wipe them away.

He had no idea how long they sat there on the floor in silence. At some point Sully felt Nate’s head thump down on his shoulder and a deep juddering sigh fall out of him. At some point the sun came up, though the night might as well have lasted forever. Sully knew they’d have to get up sometime but right now he felt as if he’d been turned to stone.

Nate without Sam was something Sully couldn’t even imagine. There had been times – plenty of them, in the early days – when Sully had wished Nate didn’t have a brother. Life would have been far simpler if the lanky little pickpocket he’d met in Cartegena had been the whole package. But he quickly realised it wasn't possible to have one without the other. The Drake brothers were inextricably linked. And no matter how goddamn difficult it was to get along with Sam sometimes, Sully wouldn’t have had it any other way. Sam was as infuriatingly charming as his brother. The intelligence he hid behind a roughness that really didn't suit him. The way he fiddled with his damn lighter. The bad puns and worse jokes. The bad morning moods. The soft voice he used with Nate - no, Nathan, the kid was always Nathan to Sam - that made Sully imagine the pair of them as little kids. Sam loved Nate with a fierceness that Sully admired beyond anything else. He'd spent his entire life trying to keep his brother safe.

And now he was gone. And Nate's world had been set adrift.

Tears pricked at his eyes once more as he looked down at the kid. It was his job now - to keep Nate from harm. And he made a silent promise to do so. He owed Sam that much, at least. He felt a cold fist clench around his heart. _He’s already been through so much. He doesn’t deserve this. Sam didn’t deserve this._

Nate had fallen asleep leaning heavily against his shoulder. Sully was numb, inside and out, but he didn’t want to move; didn’t want to wake the kid and see the look on his face when consciousness caught up with him and he was forced to remember the nightmare was real…

There was no coming back from this one.

 

***

 

The following week passed in a thick fog. Somehow, Sully managed to haul the kid up off the floor and get him to the bedroom. Nate was pretty much catatonic, barely aware of his surroundings. He slept for the next ten hours and then sat in the shower until the water turned cold. Sully tried to distract himself with the fundamentals; basic shit that didn’t require thinking: finding him some clean clothes; patching up the cuts and abrasions that covered the kid; cooking meal after meal that Nate wouldn’t eat. Sully didn’t dare ask questions and Nate certainly wasn’t talking. It was as if they were trapped inside a bubble that was slowly filling with water, drowning them in grief.

Sully still didn’t know the finer details of what had happened, aside from the few scraps he’d managed to piece together from Nate’s mutterings. Which is the only reason he didn’t break Rafe’s nose when he came knocking on the door one morning. He'd restrain himself, listen to what he had to say, and _then_ he’d smash the brat’s face in. 

“Victor,” Rafe said, with unusual politeness. He'd regained his usual polished appearance – a million miles from the wide-eyed kid in prison uniform that had turned up a week before - like nothing had happened.

Sully glanced behind him quickly, aware that Rafe’s presence was not likely to be good for Nate’s mental health right now, but the kid was thankfully still asleep. “What do you want?” Sully snapped.

“I… uh. How is he?” Rafe asked, set off balance in the face of Sully’s fierce glare.

Sully stared harder. “How d’you think?”

Rafe nodded slowly, his lips twisting thoughtfully. “Don’t suppose I could… talk to him?”

Sully had to stop himself from throwing a punch right then and there. “What the hell for? What could you _possibly_ say…?”

Rafe held up his hands in defence. “Hey, hey now, what happened was an accident. There was always a risk – we all knew that. And I’m sorry about Samuel, I really am, but…” And here the odious little brat gave a weak shrug, “Business is business, right? I need to ask Nate just a couple of questions about-”

Sully laid the kid out, right there on the front step. Rafe went down hard and lay on the asphalt for a moment, blinking in surprise, one hand drifting up to cradle his grazed jaw. Sully approached him, fists balled at his sides, and Rafe skittered backwards like a crab.

“Get out of here,” Sully said flatly, all the anger draining out of him. He'd thought it would make him feel better but hitting Rafe hadn’t satisfied anything. It hadn’t brought Sam back. It hadn’t stopped up the gaping black hole inside Sully’s chest. 

Rafe got to his feet, making a casual show of putting himself back together again, barely masking the fury beneath. But Sully wasn’t afraid of him, or his family’s empire, or anything any more. Now he knew there was nothing in this world more terrifying than the empty, lost look on Nate’s face.

“Don’t try to contact him again,” Sully said, as Rafe turned back to his car. “Ever.” 

Rafe flashed an insincere smile once that he was a safe distance away. “See you around, Sullivan.”

Sully watched him drive away, swearing to himself that the next time he saw the smarmy little shit he’d put a bullet between his eyes. His knuckles throbbed from the impact with Rafe’s chin but there was something reassuring about the aching pain. It reminded him he was still capable of feeling… something.

“Sully?”

Sully whirled to find Nate standing in the doorway. The kid was gaunt and rumpled from sleep, the bruises on his face giving him a shadowed look. And there was something in his right hand, hanging limply at his side. A length of wood? A weapon? Sully was glad he’d managed to chase the brat off as he watched Nate’s eyes follow Rafe’s car down the road.

“What did he want?” the kid asked dully.

“Doesn’t matter,” Sully barked, herding Nate back inside and shutting the door behind them. “He’s not coming back.”

Nate leaned against the kitchen table with a sigh and Sully finally saw what it was he had in his hands as the kid brought it up to the light. A battered looking crucifix, broken at one end. Nate ran his thumb over the figure with a pensive look before letting it drop down into his lap.

“This is what Rafe was after,” he said shortly. “It's what I found in the fort.”

Sully was frozen in place. This was the most Nate had said in the last few days combined. He stared at the crucifix with an irrational hatred. Was this what they’d risked everything for? Was this what Sam had died for?

The kid shrugged heavily and tossed the cross onto the table. “It’s worthless. I don't want anything to do with it. Any of it. Rafe can have it.”

Sully didn’t move to pick up the crucifix. He was too afraid of doing the wrong thing, saying the wrong thing and sending the kid into a tailspin. But to give it all up... This was everything they'd been looking for. This was what they'd bet it all on. Their legacy. 

Nate looked as if he hadn’t slept in a month, even though that was pretty much all he’d done since he’d been back. The kid scrubbed his hands over his face and tightened his fists in his hair.

“I can’t…” Nate whispered, his voice cracking. “I don’t– I don’t know what to do.” He looked up, seeking out Sully’s face with a clawing kind of desperation. “I can’t do this. I can’t. I just… tell me how to make it stop. Tell me what to do, Sully. Please.”

Sully could only shake his head.

_I don’t have a damn clue, kid._


	11. Proof of Life

The day after Rafe’s visit, Nate got sick. Sully didn’t know if it was a physical symptom of his grief or just an enterprising virus taking advantage of the kid's fragile state, but either way, it hit him hard: hot and cold flashes, aching bones, a migraine-level headache, and a fever that knocked him flat out. 

Sully dragged an armchair into Nate’s bedroom and camped out there for the next few days, listening to the kid’s delirious muttering – a mixture of nonsense dreams and vivid nightmares. The latter, Sully guessed, were mostly about Panama, judging by the frequent mention of Dismas and _solitario_ and some other Spanish words he didn’t recognise. More often, Nate would cry out Sam’s name. Sometimes the memory of his brother would leave him thrashing in his sleep, fighting invisible enemies. Other times, the name would come out tiny and weak and broken. But each time it happened, Sully would be at his side in seconds, a steady hand on Nate’s sweating forehead, anchoring him back home.

One time, deep into the second night of his fever, the kid woke mid-nightmare, suddenly lucid, and looked Sully dead in the eye.

“I wish you’d been there,” Nate murmured.

Sully’s breath caught in his throat. He’d been telling himself the same thing over and over the moment they left for the prison. He should have gone with them. He should have been there. He should have _stopped_ them going in the first place. And maybe things would have turned out different. It was a torturous cycle of thought that had chased him round and round the sleepless nights ever since.

He had to swallow hard just to keep his own voice under control. “Me too, kid. Me too.”

 

***

 

The next morning the fever broke and something inside Nate seemed to click back into place. He was still weak from the sickness but he forced himself out of bed, showered, shaved, and put on some clean clothes. Even better, he seemed to have his appetite back, to Sully’s immense relief.

Sully watched Nate with a reserved kind of caution as he shuffled about the kitchen making coffee and toast. The kid looked pale and skinny and the shadows under his eyes were deep and purple. His hands trembled as he spooned sugar into his cup.

“You should be in bed,” Sully commented.

“I’ve slept enough,” Nate replied shortly, taking a seat at the table and dragging over his journal, flicking through the pages until he found the one he was looking for.

It was a decades-old floor plan of the Panamanian prison – something they’d managed to dig up through Rafe’s contacts back when they were planning the job – and Nate frowned down at it, scribbling corrections and notes in the margins.

Sully set his coffee down with a soft thud. “What are you doin’, kid?” he asked quietly.

“I’m going back,” Nate said, without looking up.

“Nate…”

“There’s a chance, Sully.”

_And here comes the denial._

Nate’s fingers were turning white around the pencil. “He might still be there. He could have survived the fall, the shots – there’s a chance…”

Sully laid a hand on the journal. “Kid, it was all over the news, they confirmed it,” he said slowly, gently. He’d kept the newspapers away from Nate the last few days, kept the TV off, but the headlines had gone to town on the prison break, complete with interviews from the warden about how his courageous staff had taken down one of the escapees.

Nate’s eyes glimmered with intensity as he stared at the prison floor plans. “Well maybe they lied. Maybe they’re covering it up, I dunno. I just…”

He finally looked up and Sully’s heart broke all over again. “Sully, I gotta know.”

Sully tried to nod in understanding but he couldn’t let the kid go through with this. “You know you can’t go back there,” he said at last. “They’ll throw you in jail for good.”

Nate paused. “No, but you can. Make some calls. Get some answers. Real ones. You’re good at that stuff.”

Sully just stared. Nate’s calmness was starting to scare him. “Okay,” he conceded. “I can do that.”

A weak smile flickered and died on Nate’s lips. “Thank you.”

But Sully’s stomach churned with unease. This wasn’t the way to get closure. This was just prolonging the pain.

 

***

 

Predictably, the prison refused to release anything more than what they’d already told the press, even when Sully posed as a journalist seeking fresh copy on the American inmates. 

And so he did what he always did when things proved tough – he threw money at the problem and drained his investments trying to dig up something new – but the answers always came back the same. _Samuel Drake: deceased_. A brief ray of hope came when he convinced a human rights agency he was a lawyer working on behalf of the Drake family, campaigning for the return of the body, but the prison maintained that Sam remained property of the Columbian state since he’d died during an attempted escape. He’d already been cremated on site, they said. A few bribes and threats later, they eventually offered to ship the ashes back to the states but even that wouldn’t convince Nate, who shook his head vehemently at the idea.

“Bullshit,” he said, shaking his head. “Try again.”

Sully was running out of cash. Running out of favours. The only other option he could see was to call Rafe and see if he’d lend a hand with his unlimited funds and his family's reputation, but Sully couldn't bring himself to go begging to that little shit. He knew Rafe would demand something in return – Nate’s help with his continued search for the Gunsway treasure, no doubt - and Sully was not about to let the kid go down that road again. 

Nate developed a single-minded focus for his conspiracy theory – more powerful than his obsession with Francis Drake or Henry Avery. Every dead end only seemed to fuel Nate’s conviction that it was all some elaborate cover-up; that his brother was still alive and well; that it had all been a mistake. And the delicate thread of hope the kid clung to was somehow worse than the depth of his grief. Because Sully knew he’d have to acknowledge the truth eventually, and he'd have to watch the kid's world come crashing down once more.

The knowledge ached inside Sully like a physical wound. All the time Nate refused to let go of his delusion, Sully had to bury his own pain down, had to put off mourning Sam until Nate was ready to join him. _He has to face up to it sometime. He’s gonna go crazy. Or I am._  

Finally, with the last of his savings spent, Sully found what he was looking for. It just happened to be the one thing he never wanted to see. The human rights agency had managed to get a death certificate from the prison, and that wasn't all; Sully opened the manilla envelope with shaking hands to find a photograph of Sam’s body laid out on a slab, bare to the waist, three bullet wounds puncturing his left side.

Sully stared at it for the longest time, trying to breathe life back into the face in the picture. Sam looked peaceful, at least - as if he was only sleeping - his head turned to the side, hands placed neatly on his stomach, just above the bloody gunshot wounds. Sully felt as if he’d been gutted. That face he knew so well – every expression, every quirk, every dumb smile and furious glare. That stupid, stubborn asshole of a kid that he’d let himself care about. Sam. Nate’s Sam. His Sam.

He wanted to destroy the photo – tear it into a thousand pieces and burn it to ashes – but he knew it was the only way to make Nate see the truth. And in the end, he didn’t even get a chance to try and hide it from him.

“What’s that?” Nate asked him, coming through to the living room, eyes fixed on the papers in Sully’s hands. 

Sully could feel his own heartbeat through the photo as he pressed it to his chest. The dread must have been written all over his face, because Nate approached him cautiously.

“Sully…?” 

“You should sit down,” Sully told him, and Nate obeyed reluctantly, perching on the coffee table and holding out an impatient hand.

“Let me see. Please.”

Sully hesitated, passing over the death certificate first. Nate scrutinised it for a moment before setting it aside with a shrug.

“Okay? So?”

“It’s an official document,” Sully said, temper flaring at the kid’s refusal to see past his own desperate desire to be right.

“And what’s that?” Nate asked, pointing at the photograph creasing in Sully’s tight grip.

“Nate, I’m sorry…” 

“Give it to me, Sullivan!” Nate jerked to his feet and snatched the picture out of his hands.

There was a long, leaden silence as Nate studied the photo, but the kid gave no reaction besides a tensing of his jaw.

“I didn’t want you to have to see-” Sully started, but Nate tossed the picture down next to the certificate and resumed the blank mask-like expression he’d been wearing lately, as if he was refusing to allow himself to feel anything at all.

“I’m going back,” Nate said woodenly, and started gathering up his things.

“Don’t be an idiot!” Sully snapped, without meaning to. “You go back there you’re dead too. Nate… _Nathan_ …”

“ _Don’t_ call me Nathan,” the kid snarled, turning away from Sully with a furious glare in his eye. “Just- stay out of it, Sully.”

But Sully was not about to lose Nate, too. He grabbed a fistful of the kid’s sleeve, yanking him around. “Would Sam want you to do all this? Drive yourself crazy? Is that what he’d want?”

Nate reacted blindly, instinctually, breaking Sully’s hold with a hard shove and sending him crashing back against the wall.

“Don’t… don’t talk about him like that. You didn’t know him. Not like I did,” Nate said, raising a warning finger, and Sully realised he’d never had the kid’s anger directed at him before. He didn’t like it one bit.

Sully snatched up the documents from the coffee table and waved them in Nate’s face, frustration getting the better of him. “What’s it gonna take for you to accept the fact that he’s gone?”

The words hit Nate like a physical blow. Sully reached out for him but Nate pushed him away again, a little less forcibly this time.

“There’s a chance… There’s still a chance…” Nate muttered, like he was back in a fever dream, shaking his head jerkily.

“Nate, he’s gone,” Sully said, as gently as he could, “You have to stop this. Let it go. Let him go. It’s over.”

Nate’s breathing came out shaky. He took the photograph in his hands once more and stared at it for a long moment before a choking sob burst out of him, his shoulders starting to shudder.

“I had him,” Nate said in a cracked voice. “He jumped and I caught him and they…” His fingers traced over the bullet holes in the photograph. “I couldn’t hold onto him.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sully said firmly, taking the picture from him and placing it face down on the table. He _would_ burn it later. Neither of them needed to look at it ever again. He took hold of Nate by the upper arms and the kid slumped forward, his head resting on Sully’s shoulder. Sully held him tight, patting and rubbing his back and repeating the same thing over and over:

“It’s not your fault.”

 

***

 

That night they drowned their sorrows in a manner Sam would have been proud of. Nate was finally ready to talk – not just about Panama but about his brother in general – and they watched the sun both set and rise again as they exchanged stories. All the times Sam had saved Nate’s ass. All the times he’d _been_ an ass. All the jobs they’d worked together with Sully. The fights, the skin of their teeth escapes, the few successes and more frequent fuck-ups. Nate told him about St Francis’ Boys’ Home. About Sam getting thrown out. About Sam coming to get him. About this scrawny kid barely five years older than Nate who somehow managed to raise and support and protect his little brother all this time. About the all-consuming emptiness now that he was gone.

They drank, and talked, and cried, and drank some more. And it was exactly what they both needed. A way to say goodbye.

Sully just didn’t realise he’d be saying goodbye to Nate, too.

 

***

 

When Sully got up the next morning, Nate already had his bags packed and ready by the door. He’d obviously been up a while, waiting for Sully, nervously turning his coffee cup in his hands.

“I know what Sam would have wanted,” Nate said, before Sully had the chance to ask what the hell was going on.

“And what’s that?” Sully said, knowing with a sinking feeling exactly what it would be.

Nate gave a decisive nod, as if he was convincing himself as well as Sully. “I’m going to Scotland. To follow Avery’s trail. To finish this.”

Sully sighed. There was no point trying to argue, he knew, but that didn’t mean he had to give his blessing. “With Rafe?” he said, “After everything he’s done?”

A frown wrinkled Nate’s forehead. “I don’t have much of a choice. He’s bought up all the land around the Saint Dismas cathedral. I’m not getting anywhere near it without him.”

Sully cast around for an alternative. There had to be another way. “We can try? You and me?”

Nate fixed him with a look. “How? You got the money to fund another expedition?”

_No, I spent it all on trying to find out what happened to your brother._

Sully shook his head in resignation. “Kid, you _sure_ you want to do this?”

“I need this,” Nate said softly. “I need… _something._ ”

And much as he didn’t want to, Sully understood. Avery was the last tangible link between Nate and his brother. He had to let him go.

“You know where to find me,” Sully said. The same thing he said whenever they parted. An unspoken promise that the kid would come back to him.

“I know where to find you,” Nate repeated.

And once again Sully had to stand by and watch as the kid walked right out of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one was in large part inspired by the way Nate acts at the end of UC4 when Sam is trapped in the ship and he point blank refuses to leave - "there has to be another way..."
> 
> He has a real obsessive nature, especially in the first three games, until he has to face up to it in UC3 - a trait he got from Sam, maybe - and I thought this might be a good moment to show how that starts to creep into his personality. 
> 
> Also: ANGST.
> 
> We're creeping into the canon timeline now so if there are any moments/scenes/unexplored areas from the games you wanna see in subsequent chapters LET ME KNOW GUYYSSSS. 
> 
> Comments and kudos always appreciated. x


	12. Two Candles

Nate was gone two months and Sully had to keep telling himself he’d made the right call in letting the kid go. Not that he'd really had any choice in stopping him.

Still. He didn’t like the idea of Nate getting tangled up in Rafe’s business again. Everything had a price with that brat, and they really didn’t need any more debt. That was the the part that stung the most; if only they hadn’t needed Rafe’s money; if only Sully had been able to cover the cost of the Panama job; then maybe Sam would still be alive.

And then where would they be? Up in Scotland, together, following the trail to Avery’s treasure…

He couldn’t quite believe Nate had chosen to work with Rafe again but he knew there was no point trying to convince him otherwise. If this was the closure Nate needed, then so be it.

_Gotta let him work through it. And hopefully he’ll come back out the other side…_

Sully went back to New Orleans – back to Carolina. He didn’t want to dump all his grief on her again but he was fresh out of cash and, more importantly, he was in desperate need of a familiar face. She hadn’t known the Drake brothers all that well, but she knew how much they meant to Sully.

Not for the first time, Sully considered a different life. One where he woke up in the same bed every morning, next to the same woman, and didn’t have to worry about getting shot at or arrested or buried in a rockslide or trapped inside some ancient catacomb or any of the other myriad different ways his current occupation routinely tried to kill him. A life where he didn’t have to worry about Nate. The kid was a hard worker. He was smart. He could get work easily. He could go to college, even. Find a girl, settle down, leave all this behind…

Everything that had happened in Panama had made Sully realise just how lucky they’d been all this time. How goddamn stupid it was to risk their lives for a shiny piece of treasure. Well, now their luck had run out, and they’d paid the price. It had cost Sam his life. It had broken Nate. And it had left a tight knot of fear in Sully’s guts that wouldn't go away. Losing Sam had been almost too much to bear. The prospect of losing Nate, too… Sully couldn’t even consider it.

A different life... They could go straight. And Sully could finally sleep at night, knowing the kid was safe.

That was the plan, anyway.

He’d just overlooked one thing – exactly how much Nate needed the adventurer's life.

***

Two months with not so much as a word from the kid. And then one morning, as Sully and Carolina shared breakfast across the bar, she looked past him with a smile. “Look who’s here…” 

Sully turned to see Nate duck through the doorway, a duffel bag on his shoulder, looking exhausted and jet-lagged and wrung out. But in one piece, at least.

He rose to greet the kid and received a hug that drove all the air out of his lungs.

Sully pulled back to peer at Nate’s weary face, guessing the outcome of the excavation. “No luck?”

Nate dumped his bag on the bar and sat down with a shrug. “Not a thing. Rafe thinks there are caves or tunnels underneath the abbey but there’s no trace of anything connected to Avery.”

Sully watched him carefully. The kid seemed to have aged years since Panama and he almost didn’t recognise the stony-faced man in front of him.

“What made you come back?” Sully asked. He’d never have voiced it aloud but a tiny part of him had been worried that he’d never see the kid again.

Nate gave another one-shouldered shrug. “Rafe wouldn’t listen. He’s still digging. Driving himself crazy over it all. He was driving _me_ crazy.” He shook his head, forcing out the words. “We got in a fight… about… about Sam. And I just… I couldn’t do it anymore.”

Sully felt a flare of anger at Rafe, wishing he could lay another punch on the spoiled brat. He also couldn’t help feeling a little relieved that Nate had given up on the quest, as much as he’d hoped he’d find closure in Scotland. Maybe it was better this way. To give up. Move on. And find a way to live a normal life…

“Well, it’s good to have you back, kid,” Sully said.

“Good to _be_ back,” Nate sighed, raising a brief smile.

Carolina reached across for Nate’s hand and squeezed it gently.

“I’m so sorry about your brother,” she said.

Nate flinched away, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, well...” he began, taking a deep breath and letting it out again. “Maybe Rafe was right,” he said, with a pained little smile, “What happened, happened. He’s gone. He’s gone and that’s that.”

Sully winced at the dullness of the kid’s voice.

Nate shook his head, “I can’t… I don’t wanna talk about it, okay?”

Sully cleared his throat, “You need a break. We both do. I have a buddy in Costa Rica, he's got a place out there he barely uses – I reckon we could spend a little on the beach, get away from all of this for a while-”

“No,” Nate’s voice came out harsh and he checked himself with an apologetic look. “No. I need to keep busy. I need to work. That’s why I’m here. You got a job for me, Sully? Something – _anything_.?”

Carolina shot Sully a concerned look. They could both hear the desperation in the kid’s voice. Sully nodded slowly. _So much for a simple life. But anything to keep him from disappearing again._

“Sure. Sure thing, kid. I’ll get us a job.”

***

Nate didn’t speak about his brother again. Every mention of Sam’s name was swiftly cut off. Every memory avoided. The white journal was packed away into storage and the way Nate acted, it was almost as if Sam had never existed.

Sully knew the kid had a difficult time dealing with his past. Even after he’d opened up about his parents, his mother’s death, the orphanage, his time on the streets with his brother, he made it pretty clear these were all subjects he was not interested in revisiting. And just like that, Sam became just another ghost in the Drake history book.

Sully didn’t think it was fair. It certainly wasn’t healthy. Sully wanted to remember Sam. He figured that was the best way to heal – to hold onto the good times. But he also knew how fragile Nate was. It was like he’d regressed back to that flighty pickpocket from Cartegena – one wrong move away from rabbiting – and Sully was too scared of losing him to push the issue.

Instead, he followed Nate’s lead and tried to distract him with work. Sully called every contact he could think of, took on every acquisition contracts that came their way, no matter how small or hopeless or risky. In fact, the riskier the better as far as the kid was concerned – as if the adrenaline and the fear and the narrow escapes were all that kept him connected with reality.

And slowly – painfully – a remnant of the old Nate began to emerge once more. He was different, somehow – how couldn’t he be, after all he’d been through? – always restless, never satisfied unless he had some new puzzle to figure out or some impossible mission to obsess over. He became reckless, too, almost as if was trying to tempt fate. As if he was punishing himself for surviving when Sam didn’t. As if he was hoping to fail. Death or glory. It didn’t seem to matter which. 

Somehow, he got away with it. God knows how, but the kid had Lady Luck on his side. It made him kinda cocky – in a charming kind of way – but as much as it scared the hell out of Sully to see the kid take so many risks, he couldn’t help enjoying the ride. _This_ was what he’d always imagined it would be: the two of them, destined for greatness, their exploits growing more and more spectacular as Nate’s unorthodox approach for archeology flourished.

The only thing Sully hadn’t factored in was how guilty he’d feel that Sam wasn’t there to share it all with them. He could only imagine what Nate felt. The kid had locked the memory of his brother deep inside his heart and thrown away the key. 

Only once did Sully catch him letting down his guard. They were taking a little downtime, driving around Northern Italy in between jobs. One afternoon they found themselves in a place called Piacenza and were contentedly doing the tourist thing: wandering around markets, meandering down narrow vias, and idly looking out for a good place to eat. But when Sully turned to make a quip about a particularly adventurous girl he’d once known in nearby Milan, Nate had already disappeared around a corner, heading towards an ornate church in the centre of a piazza.

Nate had developed a thing for architecture. Actually, it was Sam’s thing. The eldest Drake could give you the approximate date of pretty much any structure built within the last thousand years, and he’d test his little brother relentlessly on his knowledge. Nate wasn’t quite so adept, as his brother would gleefully point out, but now Sam was gone the kid had begun to take a quiet, determined interest in the subject. Even Sully had begun to pick up a few titbits of knowledge here and there. As if they were honouring Sam's memory, somehow.

The church was enormous, with a great archway hanging over the entrance like a yawning mouth and a tall, eight-sided tower at the rear. Sully followed Nate through the huge doorway and into the cool, still silence of the building, plucking an information leaflet from a display stand as he passed.

“ _Basilica di Sant’Antonino_ ,” Sully read aloud as he caught up with the kid. “How old d’you reckon this place is?” he asked, sneakily checking the answer on the pamphlet, subconsciously slipping into the role Sam had left behind.

Nate cast his eye over the interior of the church with a frown of concentration. “Twelfth, thirteenth century, maybe? At least the original part. Pretty sure it’s been added to over the years.” He pointed up at the complicated patterns on the ceiling. “See that tracery work? That’s Neo-gothic – more like… eighteenth, nineteenth century?”  

Sully scanned the leaflet and stifled a snort to see Nate was right on the nose.

“Not bad, kid,” he said with a fond smile and wandered down the aisle after him, breathing in the familiar dusty scent that seemed to be the same in every church the world over. Sully was not a religious man but he appreciated a well-made temple of worship when he saw one. Not least because, historically, it was usually where people tended to stash their most valuable artefacts and artworks.

He’d never quite figured out Nate and Sam’s perspective on their Catholic upbringing in the orphanage. It certainly stood them in good stead when it came to Latin translation and theological research, but neither of them seemed to look back fondly on those early years. Still, they'd both retained an awkward sort of reverence for religious icons and buildings, as if they’d never quite get rid of the fear of damnation that had been drilled into them as children. 

By the time Sully caught up with Nate he’d veered off right into a small alcove where a rack of votive candles sat flickering. The light reflected off the gilded balconies above and cast the kid’s face in shadow. Nate stared at the flames, a troubled wrinkle between his eyebrows. Sully got the feeling he was interrupting something personal and was about to take a step back when Nate spoke, his voice echoing slightly in the empty space. 

“We used to hide out in churches all the time, when it was just the two of us,” he said, softly and thoughtfully. “Sanctuary, you know? Or somewhere to keep out of the rain, at least. Practice a little Latin. See if we could name all the saints in the stained-glass windows…”

He smiled faintly and gestured to the votive display. “He’d always light a candle for our mom.”

Sully realised he was holding his breath. It had been so long since either of them had mentioned Sam it was as if the grief he'd been holding at bay came rushing back in all at once.

He watched as Nate took a taper and carefully lit one candle, then another, before stepping back with a long sigh. 

“I miss him,” the kid said, so quietly Sully almost didn’t hear him. 

Sully’s eyes prickled with the threat of tears as he remembered a fifteen-year-old kid, drowsy with concussion, whispering the same words about his brother.

“You want to take a minute?” Sully asked carefully.

Nate shook his head, catching Sully's eye for a second with a sad, grateful smile. “No. No, I’m good.”

They stood watched the dancing of the candle flames – each of them saying a silent prayer of their own – before wordlessly heading back out into the sunshine together.

***

Gradually, time did its job and the rawness of Sam’s death faded a little - or, at least, the years placed it at a more manageable distance. They both began to heal, in their own quiet ways, and eventually Nate began to laugh again. And it was such a relief to have him back that Sully gave up any pretence of seeking out a different life.

If this was how Nate thrived, this was where Sully wanted to be. He could tell the kid was still yearning for something more - something bigger than petty theft and casual con-artistry. He saw it every time Nate reached for the ring around his neck. 

 _Great things…_ There was still time to fulfil that destiny together. And maybe it was another way to honour Sam.  _This is what he would have wanted_ , Nate had said. To continue the hunt. If not Avery, then there were surely other treasures out there. Other legacies.

At least, these were the lies Sully told himself.

The real reasons he indulged the kid's obsessive quest for adventure were far more selfish. Because escaping by the skin of his teeth with Nate alongside him made him feel alive. Because the guilt over Panama still lanced his heart every time he looked at the kid. Because he knew if he said no, Nate would turn around and leave, and Sully could think of nothing worse than losing him.

So on they went in the pursuit of greatness, until greatness - repeatedly - almost got them both killed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arg this took me so long to write, sorry for the wait. Transitions are HARD. Still not sure this is right but it hopefully tides us over to the next chapter which is gonna skip through the pre-Drake's Fortune stuff. Planning a replay of UC1 this week to give myself lots of ideas!


	13. Desperate Times

“Crap,” Nate grumbled, probing tentatively at a scrape on his cheekbone. “How is it that I _always_ end up in jams like this?”

Sully slid a fresh beer across the bar to him and chuckled ruefully. “Because you never learn from your mistakes. Your many, _many_ mistakes.”

Nate feigned offence, hand over his heart. “I _never_ make mistakes. Just… lapses in judgement.”

“Yeah, right. ‘Lapses in judgement’. Like trusting dangerous women who end up kicking your ass,” Sully smirked. “Your radar is _way_ off, kid, you know that?”

Nate gave a rakish shrug, “Eh. Maybe I like ‘em that way.”

“Maybe you do,” Sully echoed, shaking his head.

Sully couldn’t exactly lecture the kid on his taste in women, considering his own track record, but Nate certainly did pick ‘em... His last job had ended up with him being tortured, electrocuted, and beaten bloody by some psychopath ‘art collector’ for the sake of a diamond amulet worth millions – and surprise, surprise, Nate’s latest ‘lapse in judgement’ had run off with it, leaving him with nothing. Again. The girl had also turned out to be the sister of a certain short-fused Indonesian pirate, Eddy Raja, who had apparently vowed to riddle Nate full of bullet holes the next time he saw him.

So… pretty much standard fare for the infamous Nathan Drake.

It had been five years since Panama and Nate’s attempts at ‘greatness’ had fallen into something of a pattern. Find a job, discover job is way more than he bargained for, get double-crossed by some asshole or other, call Sully to save his sorry ass, risk life and limb, aaaand end up with absolutely _bubkis_.

Oh, and there was usually some girl, too – a series of train-wreck relationships that inevitably fizzled out (or ended explosively) before the next job began.

_Yep, you really know how to pick ‘em, kid…_

First there was Chloe, a fellow treasure hunter they’d crossed paths with on an ill-fated quest for the Amber Seal - a job that had got them tangled up with Russian mobsters, a couple of lunatic rich kids who could have given Rafe a run for his money, and a doomed schlep to the Arctic where Nate had very nearly ended up drowning in _lava_ of all things. Once again, they’d walked away with nothing, but as Nate said, “Sometimes just walking away is enough.”

It checked all the boxes, anyway: death-defying stunts, double-crossing dickheads, women of dubious morals… Except Sully had _liked_ Chloe – she was more than a match for Nate, had gotten them out of some tight spots, and drove a getaway car like a demon – but he wasn’t exactly surprised when she disappeared after a one night stand with the young Casanova.

As usual, Nate’s romantic entanglements never really developed past the point of being a brief distraction. It didn’t seem to bother the kid. These days he’d rather stay up all night translating some complex secret code than hit the bar with Sully, still searching for The One – the ultimate job to replace what he’d lost when Avery’s trail went cold. But instead of riches and glory the kid only seemed to attract trouble.

After Chloe there was a plucky young girl named Marisa Chase and an ill-advised trip back to Panama, searching for another lost treasure. Once again, Nate got in way over his head, and once again, Sully had ended up bailing him out on a doomed crusade to rescue the girl, stop the bad guy, save the world. This time it had cost Sully a broken ankle, but it was almost worth it to see Nate let down his guard a little with Chase. She was softer than Chloe, certainly more naïve, but spunky in a way that reminded Sully of Nate when he was younger. But Nate's self-sabotaging approach to his love life was still alive and well, it seemed, and he managed to mess that one up in record time.

Sully could guess why. Chase had lost her grandfather in an obsessive quest, and while Nate never said it out loud, Sully recognised the same tense expression on the kid’s face whenever he thought about his brother. The familiarity of her grief must have been a little too close to the bone for comfort. And so Nate shut it down, closed it off, and ran away.

And then there was Rika, Eddy’s sister. Admittedly, Nate hadn’t known they were related when he’d hooked up with her but that didn’t stop him almost getting his head blown off. Nate had barely walked away from that job and the evidence was still stamped all over his face as he sat hunched at the bar – a brutal collage of bruises and cuts that made Sully wince just to look at him.

And that was another thing: the jobs they found always seemed to turn into something bigger these days. Something more than just digging for treasure and trying to make a quick buck or two. Every time, Sully wondered if this would be the one – the one that saw them going out in a blaze of glory – but somehow they always scraped through the other side.

_How long can it last, though? Before our luck runs out?_

He knew Nate wouldn’t stop. All these foolhardy quests, they were only really a means to an end in the hopes of raising enough capital to go after the _real_ treasure. The Drake legacy. Avery’s haul might be long-forgotten but Nate still wore the ring around his neck, still believed vehemently that Sir Francis had faked his own death, and the old sea dog had been hiding something special at the coordinates inscribed inside it.

The only problem was money. Sully was elbows-deep in debt – getting Nate out of trouble was an expensive hobby – and the various shady people he owed were becoming increasingly impatient. He hadn’t told Nate just how bad things were, either. He knew it would only make him worry and probably encourage him to take on yet another doomed mission to try to land them a payload.

Instead, Sully had ignored his own advice and trusted one of those dangerous women he’d been warning Nate about – a certain Chloe Frazer, in fact. He’d run into her a couple of years after the Amber Seal job at an auction house in Berlin. Her eyes lit up when she saw him and she made a beeline across the crowded room, casually linking arms with him as they watched the bidding.

“Victor. Always a pleasure. Has Nate been pining after me?” she grinned.

“Like a hound dog,” Sully answered drily.

She gave a low chuckle and nodded at the artefacts on display. “Got your eye on something special?”

Sully shook his head, “No, no. Can’t afford squat right now.”

“I didn’t mean to _buy_ , Victor…” Chloe said in a cheeky undertone, but faltered when she saw the frown on Sully’s face. “Desperate times, huh? You know, if you need a little ‘patronage’ to tide you over I might know a guy. He’s a sociopathic power-whore but y’know, a lot more likely to pay out than a bank loan. Less paperwork, too”

Sully looked sideways at her. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to get involved with anyone in Chloe’s address book but he _was_ getting desperate. She took his silence for acquiescence and fished in her bag for a pen, taking Sully’s hand and scrawling a phone number on his palm.

“His name’s Roman,” she said. “ _Super_ -posh British gent.”

“ _Gabriel_ Roman? The crime lord?”

Chloe gave a little shrug, “That’s the one. Bit of a smarmy git. You’ll hate him. But he’s got money to burn. Spin him one of Nate’s ‘untold fortune’ stories and I’m sure he’ll help you out. Just look out for that interest rate, okay?” She patted his arm as if he was some elderly grandfather.

“I’ll think about it,” Sully grunted, his pride getting the better of him.

Chloe laughed. “Well, I hate to dash but I have a rendezvous with a certain auction lot that is currently making its way up from storage…” she said, checking her watch and eyeing a pair of guards by a side door.

“You need a distraction?” Sully asked with a wry grin.

“You’re a treasure, Victor,” Chloe winked, slipping into the crowd.

Sully sighed to himself as he watched her go. The ink on his hand was still wet and he resisted the urge to wipe it off there and then. Getting into more debt was a terrible idea, he knew that, but no matter how many times Nate’s wild schemes went awry, he couldn’t help getting swept up in the excitement of the next one. Sooner or later it had to pay off, right?

Chloe was almost at the door and with impeccable timing, Sully shifted his weight slightly to the left so that his foot tripped a passing waiter. The waiter’s tray came crashing down, glasses smashing, champagne splashing, guests shrieking, and all heads turned their way. By the time Sully looked back at the door it was closing silently, no trace of Chloe in sight.

In good sportsmanship, he stooped to help up the waiter, who was busy garbling hurried apologies.

“No harm done, fella,” Sully said jovially, slipping a couple of bank notes into the man’s pocket. “Worse things happen at sea, eh?” 

_No, worse things happen when you borrow money from megalomaniacs but sure, let’s go with that._

***

Sully hadn’t wiped the phone number away. He’d saved it into his phone and tried to forget about it. Something for a rainy day. And pretty soon it was pouring.

Six months before Nate had taken the Eye of Indra job Sully had bitten the bullet and called Roman for help. He was just as slimy as Chloe had said, but more than happy to extend some finances Sully’s way.

“Your reputation precedes you,” Roman said, when they met for the first time. Though his tone of voice made it clear he didn’t think much of it.

“As does yours,” Sully replied, sotto voce. The guy’s notorious politeness did nothing to mask the underhand methods he employed to ensure he got his way.

“Quite the double-act, Sullivan and Drake,” Roman continued. “Are you aware there’s a growing list of people out for your blood?”

Sully forced a smile onto his face, “Nothing we can’t handle. Unless there’s a bounty you’re considering cashing in.”

Roman laughed at that. “No, no, no. Far more entertaining to see what you do with my capital, don’t you think?”

“Your investment is safe with me,” Sully replied, praying to any listening deity that he'd be able to hold up his end of the bargain. If Nate really was right about Francis Drake’s coffin; if this job really was The One; if _for once_ they managed to get out in one piece _and_ the treasure… That was a lot of ‘ifs’.

Roman was studying him like a strange animal in a zoo. “We shall see, Mr Sullivan,” he said, without a trace of a smile, and Sully suddenly felt as if he’d inadvertently sold his soul to the devil.

***

Sully was already late on his payments. He’d managed to shake off a couple of Roman’s goons the previous week on his way to Indonesia to pick up Nate’s sorry ass, and he was starting to get jumpy. Even worse, Nate’s ‘guaranteed success’ of a diamond heist had gone predictably wrong and here they were in a rundown beachside Jakarta bar, drowning their sorrows.

The kid was covered in bandages and band aids, and even lifting his drink to his lips seemed to be painful. Sully’s brow furrowed. He couldn’t ask Nate to take on yet another stupid job to keep them afloat. As much as he eschewed any notion of being a father figure, Sully still felt like it was his responsibility to look after the kid. But all he seemed to manage was to plunge them into yet more debt.

The ring around Nate’s neck clinked against the beer bottle as he took another swig. Sully tapped the end of his cigar on the bar thoughtfully and pointed at the necklace.

“So now what?” he asked, “How’re you gonna fund your little ‘finding-the-coffin’ adventure?”

Nate smiled one of his ‘what could possibly go wrong’ smiles and leaned back. “Actually, I already got something lined up,” he said, giving Sully a conspiratorial look, “‘Of course, I’m gonna need your help on this one.”

Sully took a deep breath. “Oh boy…”

Nate gestured to a TV hanging on a bracket above the bar where a documentary was playing. A young blonde in a tank top was speaking earnestly into the camera, describing some mysterious archaeological discovery.

“I meet with her tomorrow,” Nate said, smug as a bridegroom.

Sully made a disparaging noise in the back of his throat. “Get out of here. What the hell did you tell her?”

“Nothing,” Nate shrugged, “Just that I found the site of Sir Francis Drake’s coffin.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice a little, “Best part, her producers are gonna pay for the whole damn thing!”

Sully couldn’t help but laugh, even though a cacophony of alarm bells were going off in the back of his mind. Another high-risk, low-reward, get your ass kicked adventure. How long could they keep doing this? A man couldn’t live on hypothetical riches forever… And if this one didn’t pay off, he didn’t want to think about what Roman might do to him.

He winced, resigning himself to what he was about to do.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, kid.”

***

“Give me a couple more weeks,” he told Roman over the phone that evening, a solid lump of guilt settling in his stomach at the thought of keeping Nate out of the loop. It wasn’t betrayal, as such. His financial problems were his own, and Nate was on a need to know basis. The less he knew, the less likely he'd get hurt.

“On the verge of a grand discovery, are you?” Roman drawled. “I’m a patient man, Sullivan, but you’re beginning to test my limits.”

Sully grimaced. “Two weeks. I’ll have what I owe you, plus interest. This one’s the find of a lifetime.”

A low, mirthless chuckle came down the phone line. “Well then,” Roman said. “I can’t _wait_ to see what you come up with.”

***

Sully sat in the cockpit of the seaplane waiting for Nate to radio through. The kid had managed to sweet-talk this journalist lady and her producers into financing the dive for Sir Francis Drake’s coffin and Sully hadn’t seen him this excited since his brother first got out of jail.

Sully should have been happy for him. Nate had been holding onto that ring ever since Cartegena. He’d been trying to crack the puzzle of the dates and the coordinates and the possible reasons for the explorer faking his own death for years. And now he was about to get some answers – and hopefully a decent payoff. And all Sully could think about was: _Will my cut be enough to get Roman off my back?_

He fidgeted in the pilot’s seat and stared out over the ocean, a deep frown creasing his forehead. He knew this feeling all too well. Some sixth sense that it was all about to go horribly wrong. Something… _hinky_ about the whole thing.

But he couldn’t back out now. Too much was riding on this stupid coffin at the bottom of the ocean. He shook his head. He had to trust in the kid. Nate’s unshakeable determination had got them this far.

" _Sic parvis magna_ ," he said under his breath. Maybe the greatness part was just over the horizon.

As if on cue, the radio crackled. Sully snatched it up when he heard Nate’s voice:

“Sully? Uh… we got some trouble. Hurry it up.”

Sully gunned the engine and eased the bird into the air, cruising towards the coordinates of the dive. A few minutes later he caught sight of Nate's boat with three pirate gunships carving circles around it, the sharp crack of gunfire ringing out across the waves. It was difficult to distinguish between the various figures darting about down there, exchanging bullets, but he knew the kid could look after himself. More or less. He gritted his teeth and took the plane into a low sweeping dive, sending the nearest ship rocking.

“Jesus Christ, kid…” Sully muttered, turning a wide circle over the battle scene. Nate’s boat was on fire now, and by the time Sully brought the plane back round to land on the surface of the water a series of explosions tore through the ship – two figures leaping into the ocean at the last second.

Sully wrenched open the door to see Nate surface, spitting water and whistling out a sigh of relief.

“I can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I?” Sully laughed.

Nate swam over to hang off the door. “I had everything under control until they blew up the boat,” he protested.

The journalist wasn’t fair behind, holding a camera over her head as she swam one-handed. Sully set out the ladder and helped her up. “Well, if it isn’t the beautiful and talented Elena Fisher.”

“Flattery will get you screen time,” she replied smoothly, climbing past him.

Nate followed after, the flaming wreckage of the ship sinking slowly into the water behind him. Not the greatest of starts. Sully sighed.

_How is it that you always end up in jams like this?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it to UC1! 
> 
> References to the [Uncharted Graphic Novel](http://readcomiconline.to/Comic/Uncharted)), [The Golden Abyss](https://youtu.be/k62OXxuuXkM), and the [Eye of Indra motion comic](https://youtu.be/doJ22VCEdxE). And of course a very brief intro to Miss Elena Fisher. (I left out the Uncharted novel because... tbh I didn't like it much and it's not exactly in wide circulation so meh.)
> 
> Soooo Sully obviously changed A LOT from UC1-4 and when we first 'meet' him he's kinda shady, in a bunch of debt, and seems to have accidentally gotten Nate into the shit with Roman. Chloe mentions Roman at the end of the graphic novel so I thought I'd tie it all together here for a lil' extra backstory. Hopefully it works.
> 
> Now just bear with me while I replay UC1 to figure out what the hell I'm gonna do next! Or holler suggestions for what you want me to write about from Drake's Fortune...


	14. Stay Away From The Bad Guys

_The beautiful and talented Elena Fisher._ This one was going to be trouble. 

She was capable, that was for sure. And she seemed to have the measure of Nate immediately – effortlessly sidestepping his natural charm with a dry cynicism that Sully couldn’t help liking. She was smart and shrewd, and though he could tell she was a little shaken by their run in with the pirates she showed no sign of wanting to abandon the quest for whatever was inside Drake’s journal. In fact, Sully recognised that same single-minded doggedness Nate had when she started cross-questioning the kid about why Sir Francis might have faked his own death, what the journal contained, and where they were going next.

And worst of all? Nate clearly liked her, too. The kid kept snatching glances at her when she wasn’t looking. He rolled his eyes when she challenged his attempts at deflection but smiled to himself afterwards, as if he secretly wanted her to keep pushing; wanted an opportunity to show her how clever he was. Sully suspected the girl felt similarly. She was intrigued not only by the mysterious journal, but by the scruffy young man who could be taking potshots at Indonesian pirates one minute and spouting sixteenth century trivia the next.

In short, she was perfect for the kid. The issue was, she was a goddamn reporter, which meant her first priority was broadcasting the story to the whole damn world. Not exactly the subtle approach Sully would have chosen, not least since he was trying his best to fly under the radar where Roman was concerned.

So… yeah. She was trouble.

And so he only felt a little guilty when he convinced Nate to ditch her at the dock. They had what they came for and a fresh lead, and it was better to make a clean cut now than let her tag along any further. If Sully knew anything about how these jobs tended to go, things were likely to get much more dangerous from here on out. Better to let her go back to her cushy little tele-drama existence and stay well clear of the treasure hunting life. Better to nip the whole thing in the bud before Nate started thinking with his heart (or his pants) instead of his head.

While Elena was busy on the phone with her producers, Nate laid out the contents of the journal for Sully, talking a mile a minute about Sir Francis’ dealings in South America, and Sully's faith in the job began to reignite. This was bigger than either of them had ever imagined. _El goddamn Dorado._ If Nate was right – and Sully never doubted the kid, no matter how many times he’d screwed up – then they’d be looking at a fortune that would set them up for life, not to mention paying off Roman with as much interest as the prick demanded. 

“This is it – this is finally _it_!” Nate whispered excitedly.

“Yeah… Only we got one little problem,” Sully said, with a pointed look at at Elena who was still pacing the jetty outside.

Nate looked crestfallen. “Sully, the girl can hold her own. You should’a seen her,” he protested.

Sully sighed, trying to cover his guilt with anger and sarcasm instead, “Fine. You go on out there and you tell her, ‘We just found the lost City of Gold!’ Maybe her producer can get it on the air tonight.”

“Oh come on…”

Nate turned away but Sully knew he’d already won the argument and hated himself for it. He softened his voice. He didn't like lying to the kid, but what Nate didn’t know couldn’t get him into trouble. The debt was Sully’s and Sully’s alone. There was no need to get Nate involved, too.

“Nate. Do you trust me?” he asked.

Nate huffed out an infuriated breath. “More or less.”

“Good. ‘Cause we’re gonna have every two-bit scumbag in the world racing us to this treasure unless we cut her loose right now.”

“You’re a real gentleman, Sully,” Nate said with a sigh.

“I know,” Sully said, “It stinks. She’ll get over it.”

Nate slouched over the table, casting a regretful look at the girl as Sully gave her a cheery wave through the window. And before the kid could offer up another counter-argument, before Elena could finish her phone conversation and change his mind, Sully fired up the boat’s engine and headed out into the open ocean. To El Dorado; to a life without debt.

***

Sully’s apprehension only grew as they made their way through Amazon jungle to the coordinates Nate had figured out from the journal. Nate was excited, like a kid again, bounding over tree stumps and clambering up half-collapsed Incan ruins, but Sully couldn’t enjoy the hunt. The weight of everything riding on this one outrageous hypothetical treasure was beginning to drag him down.

As they ventured into a series of underground caves Nate picked up a rusted old helmet, passing it over to Sully with a shrug.

“Looks like the Spanish got here before Drake did.”

Sully’s heart sank. If the Spanish had already cleared out the treasure from this place – before Drake even managed to find it – then what the hell would be left for them? He tossed the helmet to the floor with a growl of frustration.

Nate eyed him curiously. “Sully, what the hell?”

Sully backed away, reluctant to meet the kid’s eye in the torchlight; reluctant to admit what was really bothering him. “Nate, I’m not lookin’ for a lousy piece of tin!” he snapped, “I’m up to my eyeballs in debt!”

He saw a flicker of uncertainty cross Nate’s face and sat down on a lump of rock with a sigh. For a moment he wanted to spill everything; tell Nate the truth and ask for his help and forgiveness, all at once. But he couldn't. His shame went too deep for that. He felt rotten right down to his guts. He’d let his pride get the best of him and convinced himself he could dig himself out of this mess without admitting he’d screwed up. 

“I was _really_ countin’ on this one,” he said quietly, instead.

Nate turned away, continuing his search of the cavern, and tried to ease the tension in the air with a joke: “Too many big bar tabs in Lima, I guess?”

Sully laughed humorlessly. “That, and well, just a few bad deals.”

Nate knelt down to examine a collapsed column and shot him a wry grin. “Yeah, well, I always told you to stay away from the bad guys.”

 _If only you knew, kid._  

“And the bad girls,” Nate added.

Sully couldn’t help but smile at that. “Yeah? Look who’s talkin’?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That reporter?” Sully said, raising a knowing eyebrow, “I saw the way you were eyeing her…”

“Elena? Please,” Nate did a poor job at disguising his dismissal, “I snuffed any chance with her the second we ditched her on that dock.”

Sully laughed, but inside he felt another stab of guilt. That one was his fault, too. But there would be other girls, surely. And it was bad enough dragging Nate into this shit show, let along some innocent reporter, too. “All’s fair in love and war, kid,” he said.

“Hmm,” Nate snorted and took Sully’s hand, helping him up with a grunt, “And what if you can’t tell the difference?”

Sully patted him on the back as they headed off down the tunnel, “Then, my friend, you are in big trouble.”

***

The trail went cold. Again. They’d figured out _El Dorado_ was a statue, not a city. Enough gold to live on for the rest of their lives. But it was already gone. No statue. No treasure. No way to pay back Roman. Sully was starting to feel nauseous with dread. But Nate remained irrepressibly optimistic and they followed a set of deeply scored tracks back out into the jungle in the vain hope that they could find some trace of where the statue had gone.

Instead, they found… a German U-boat, jammed into a waterfall in the middle of the goddamn rainforest. Something about the sight sent a tremble of anxiety through Sully’s bones. This whole thing had suddenly become three times as complicated. Too many people were after this treasure: first Drake, then the Spanish, then the Nazis. What next? It was decidedly hinky, and he told Nate as much, but the kid insisted on exploring the submarine, passing over Drake’s journal to Sully for safekeeping. Sully tucked it into his shirt pocket as he watched Nate head towards the waterfall.

“Just be careful up there, it’s a long way down,” Sully called after him. Nate, as usual, waved off his concerns.

 _Kid should’a been in the circus_ , Sully thought as he watched Nate scale the cliff and drop down into the rusty U-boat.

Sully clutched his radio, waiting for Nate to return, checking in with him every few minutes as the kid discovered a couple of dead bodies, some Spanish coins, and… a map.

Sully’s hope soared for a moment. This was progress, at least. Coordinates to a hidden island in the middle of the Pacific. The treasure might still be there if they were very, very lucky – so long as they found it before Roman caught up with him. Sully's two weeks grace period had already come and gone and he had nothing left to bargain with…

“Nate, this better not be another wild goose chase,” he said down the radio, “We’ve gotta get something out of this trip or-”

Sully stopped mid-sentence at the familiar sensation of a gun barrel pressing against his lower back. He froze, every muscle in his body tensing up.

“Or what?” Nate replied, his voice scratchy down the line. “Sully? You there?”

A hand reached over Sully's shoulder and took the radio out of his hand. A moment later a man in a white linen suit strode around into his view and smiled a shark’s smile, eyes like lead.

 _Roman_.

“Sullivan,” Nate said, more urgently this time, but Roman clicked the radio to silent and slipped it into his pocket.

“How long you been standing there?” Sully asked, trying desperately to figure out a way to resolve this before Nate got out of the U-boat. But Roman wasn’t alone. Aside from the guy with the gun in Sully’s back, there were at least three more armed thugs strolling threateningly around the clifftop.

“Long enough to overhear something about a map,” Roman answered smoothly. “I’m glad to see you’re making progress but I’m disappointed you didn’t feel it necessary to keep me updated.”

“Must have slipped my mind,” Sully growled, scanning the U-boat behind Roman for a sign of Nate, hoping the kid had already spotted their unwelcome visitors and was hiding somewhere safe, or made a run for it, back to the boat, back to safety.

_But that’s not what Nate would do, is it? No, the kid thinks he's a hero. He’ll come barreling in, ready for a fight…_

Sully swallowed nervously. This was not going to end well.

Roman nodded to a dark haired, dark eyed man on his left, “Navarro here wanted to shoot the pair of you before you even made it out of the temple, but it seems having a little patience has paid off, don't you think?”

Sully’s blood turned cold when he looked at Navarro. There was a dyed in the wool killer if every he saw one. The man held a semi-automatic weapon loosely in the crook of his arm and stared at Sully like he was dirt on his shoe.

Roman jerked his chin at the U-boat and spoke to his armed companion once more. "If the Drake boy doesn't come out soon, send in your men."

“The kid’s got nothing to do with my debt,” Sully said quickly. “This is between you and me, Roman.”

But before he could bargain further, he heard the guards behind him tense and the click of bullets entering chambers as a figure appeared in the water, swimming swiftly towards the bank.

_Goddamnit, Nate, why didn't you run?_

Roman greeted the kid with an outstretched hand. “Hello.”

Nate ignored the offer of help and hauled himself out of the water with a wary look at Roman.

“Friends of yours, Sully?” Nate asked, a look of confusion and suspicion on his face.

“I’m Gabriel Roman,” the Brit said.  
  
Nate glared at him. “Yeah, I know who you are, asshole.”

Roman seemed amused. “Manners, young man, this is just business.”

Navarro grabbed Nate’s upper arm and took the kid’s pistol, shoving him towards Sully. “Get over there.”

“Easy...” Nate muttered, as he regained his balance.

“Put your hands up,” Navarro snapped at him.  

“Alright, they’re up!” Nate snapped right back. Sully shook his head. He knew that tone of voice. Nate wasn’t one to let his temper get the better of him but when he got riled up he didn’t hold back.

 _Don’t try anything stupid, please…_ Sully pleaded silently, trying to catch the kid's eye, but Nate's gaze was fixed on Roman.

The crime lord began pacing slowly between the pair of them. “See, your friend owes me money, Mr Drake. A lot of money.”

Nate couldn't hide a wince of disappointment. Sully’s guilt became a solid ball in his stomach. This is not how he wanted the kid to find out. 

“So,” Roman continued, clearly enjoying the effects of his monologue, “When he told me that you two were onto something big – ‘the find of a lifetime’ he said – well, I was intrigued.”

Nate shot Sully a scathing look of disappointment. Sully was desperate to interject, to try to explain, but he knew it was pointless. Better to stay silent, wait for an opportunity, let them think they’ve got the upper hand. So long as the kid didn’t run his mouth off in the meantime.

Roman stopped in front of Sully and smiled. “But he’s made grand promises before, haven’t you, Victor? And here we are again. Another fool’s errand.”

Nate rolled his eyes. “Sheesh, does he always go on like this?” he said, but was quickly silenced by Navarro who struck him in the kidneys with the butt of his gun. Nate let out a cry of pain, staggering forward, and Sully had to stop himself from taking a step towards the kid. Or laying out that prick Navarro right there and then. Adrenaline prickled at the back of his neck at the growing tension in the air.

_Jesus, Nate, just keep your damn mouth shut!_

“So,” said Roman. “I’m afraid the time is up. Unless, of course, you found something in there, Mr Drake, that might compensate for all this unpleasantness?”

_Let’s just get this over with for Christ’s sake._

“He’s screwing with you, Nate,” Sully said in a resigned voice. “They heard everything. Just give ‘em the map.”

The guilt weighed on him like an anchor pulling him down to the bottom of the ocean. Nate had been chasing after Drake’s legacy for a decade, and now that they’d finally found a real, tangible clue, they had to hand it over to this son-of-a-bitch. After everything, _this_ is the job Sully screws up…

Nate reluctantly handed the map over to Navarro, pointedly avoiding Sully’s eyes. But it didn't matter; Sully couldn’t possibly feel any worse.

“So, we square?” Sully asked Roman tonelessly, praying that this was the last of it, but knowing in his guts that it likely wouldn’t be.

Roman looked up darkly. “For now. But just in case you need a reminder…” he said, raising his gun towards Nate.

Sully jolted forward, an icy sliver of fear slicing through his nerves, “Hey, come on, leave him out of it." 

Nate backed away a little, a slight shaking of his voice betraying the bravado in his words, “Yeah, don’t you guys usually just cut off a finger or something?” 

Roman grimaced. “That’s far too vulgar. No, I think this will hurt him a bit more…”

Sully’s heart plunged into his stomach, visions of bullets piercing the kid's chest swimming before his eyes. _No, no, no, I can’t lose him too._

The world seemed to move in slow motion as Sully tried to shield Nate with his own body, “Now, woah, woah, woah. C’mon, Roman, he’s got nothing to do with-”

But Roman’s arm shifted at the last second and Sully only realised what had happened when he saw gunsmoke curling away from his own shirt.

Sully wavered on his feet for a moment, one hand rising instinctively to clutch at the bullet hole in his chest.  _Sonofabitch shot me..._

“Sully!” Nate yelled.

Sully collapsed forward, his forehead bouncing off the rocky ground, his limbs leaden and useless.

"Sully!" Nate's voice, grating, desperate.

Sully's vision faded from black to white to black again as he struggled to lift his head.

_No. Not now. Get up. Get up. Get up. You can’t leave the kid to deal with them alone…_

But movement was impossible. His senses swum and an aching pain in his chest made it difficult to breathe.

“You son of a bitch!” he heard Nate scream, and then the scuffling of feet beside him, before the air suddenly turned fiery hot and a deafening explosion resonated overhead.

Darkness pressed down on him. Sully’s eyes refused to open. And the last thing he heard was the rattle of gunfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UC1 is so much fun. Sully's absent from the action for a while but that doesn't mean I can't torture him with guilt and angst in the meantime. Looking forward to having him reunited with Nate and Elena, especially since he has some serious explaining to do...


	15. More or Less

Sully woke feeling like someone had taken a drill to his skull. He lay on his back, cold metal beneath him, a deep reverberation running through his spine, making every bone ache. When he opened his eyes the sky was spinning and he rolled over with a lurch of nausea, pressing his bruised forehead into the floor. Gradually, painfully, the world regained its focus and a modicum of understanding followed. He recognised that sound; that pressure in the air; that thrumming rhythm. He was flying.

As his blurry eyes slowly refocused he took in the interior of a helicopter, the grey-blue of the ocean streaming past below, blades whizzing overhead. For a moment he had no idea why or how he’d got here, until the slow drip of realisation came back to him.

_The U-boat. Roman. You got shot, old man, remember that?_

Somehow he wasn’t dead.

The bullet wound in his chest throbbed like a sonofabitch but when his hand grazed over it his fingers came back clean. He sagged back against a seat and blinked dumbly at a trio of figures in front of him: Roman, Navarro, and one of their armed cronies. Each one stared back at him with varying degrees of malevolence. Sully’s tired brain failed to make sense of it all until Roman leaned forward, holding up a small brown rectangle in front of his face.

Francis Drake’s journal – marred with a neat bullet hole, charred around the edges. It had been in his pocket, right where the bullet had hit. Sully’s hand returned to his chest, probing at the bruising on his breastbone, sticking a finger through the frayed tear in his shirt pocket. He let out a low whistle of disbelief.

_Well I’ll be goddamned…_

“It seems Sir Francis Drake wants you alive,” Roman said with amusement.

At the mention of the name ‘Drake’, Sully’s nausea returned as a thousand panicked thoughts suddenly spun through his head. His head whipped round, searching the helicopter for the only face he wanted to see, but the kid wasn’t there.

_Jesus, Nate… Tell me he got away. Tell me they didn’t shoot him too. He can’t be- If he’s-_

Roman studied him patiently, as if reading his mind. “Your boy left you for dead, in case you’re wondering,” he said, in a bored kind of voice. “Turned tail the moment things turned ugly. I’m guessing he learned that one from you.”

Sully didn’t dignify the jab with a response, overwhelmed with relief. _So he got away. Good. For once the kid used his head._

And then a second little voice joined the first one in his head – a horrible whisper that brought the fear and doubt creeping back: _But he left you behind…_

Sully shook his head and glared at Roman, refusing to play into his mind games.

“So why the hell am I still breathin’?” he asked hoarsely, shifting painfully on the hard floor of the chopper.

Roman smiled coldly, “You didn’t think we were going to let you go, did you? What, and waste all that research you and Mr Drake have been working so hard on? No, no, no, we’re going to make good use of you before we decide it’s time for you to stop breathing, Victor.”

Navarro narrowed his eyes at Sully, a hint of a smile on his cruel mouth, as if he couldn’t wait until that moment arrived.

Sully matched his gaze. Nate got away. That was all that mattered. He had something to stay alive for. And the kid would come back for him. He had to believe that.

 

***

 

Another damn jungle. An oppressive heat and a long, arduous trek to a ruin of a fort, where Roman met up with Eddy Raja of all people, and a battalion of pirate mercenaries. Sully slowed to stare at the sheer amount of firepower they were unloading from their trucks and Navarro shoved him forward.

“Keep moving, old man.”

“Why the hurry?” Sully retorted with a wry smile. “Worried you got someone on your tail?”

The only thing that had kept him going this far was the hope that Nate was right behind them, somewhere. Surely Nate would follow the coordinates. Then he’d find the island, find a way to get Sully out of this mess, and they’d find the treasure together. Or – most likely – barely walk away with their lives. He could handle that, so long as they got to walk away. He just wasn’t used to being the damsel in distress.

But Navarro’s expression turned cruel all of a sudden. “I wouldn’t bet on that,” he said quietly. “We shot down your plane an hour ago, over the coast.” 

Sully fixed his face in a mask, not giving Navarro the satisfaction of a reaction. But inside, his mind conjured up a horror show of worst case scenarios: Nate being shredded by shrapnel as the plane blasted apart; Nate trapped in the cockpit as the plane smashed into the ground; Nate drowning in the ocean, dragged down by the wreckage. He closed his eyes for a moment and steadied his breathing. No. Nate was a lucky little bastard. And there were parachutes on board. He could have got out in time. He _had_ to have got out…

Navarro smirked as he walked on, and Sully let himself be pushed onward, feeling numb and boneless, fighting back the urge to scream.

 

***

 

Past the fort was a flooded city – a ghost town of a colony, long abandoned. Navarro led them through a series of crumbling ruins and down into a network of cellars where they made their first real discovery since the U-boat. There on the wall was a hand-drawn map, complete with a message from Sir Francis, pointing towards a ‘great tower’ and a symbol Sully recognised from Nate’s diary: a pair of crossed keys. He couldn’t help but imagine the kid’s excited commentary in his head – a train of thought hypothesis that would inevitably run away from him as he pored over his journal with glinting, wide eyes. Navarro seemed to have no such enthusiasm. He made a brief note of the map’s contents and ordered his men on with a grunt.

Roman stood back to admire the 400-year-old message for a moment, glancing sideways at Sully who had turned his eyes to the floor. There was no point marveling at the sights if Nate wasn’t there to share it with him.

“So. Your boy _was_ onto something after all,” Roman commented, nodding at the map. “The find of a lifetime…” He chucked to himself, shaking his head. “I still can’t work out how two petty thieves like you and Drake managed to put all this together. You have hidden depths, Sullivan.”

 _You have no idea_ , Sully growled in his head. But it was all Nate, really. Behind the kid’s scruffy, rough-hewn exterior was a brilliant mind and a heart that never seemed to reach its capacity. Not for the first time, Sully wondered what he’d done to deserve having the kid in his life. Except now he didn’t. He swallowed hard, trying to resist the prickle of tears in his eyes. The thought that Nate might still be out there – bleeding, injured, dying at some crash site in the jungle… The thought that he might never know what happened to him – that he’d never even get to bury the body, just like Sam…

The fury that had been building inside him finally made its way to the surface and he moved without thinking, reaching for the nearest guard’s weapon and tearing it out of the man’s hands. He turned to Roman but before he could squeeze the trigger he was beset from all sides – someone grabbed his elbow and forced the gun up towards the ceiling; someone else kicked out the back of his knees and sent him sprawling to the floor. The barrel of a pistol jabbed into his neck and Roman’s silky voice sounded beside his ear.

“An admirable attempt, Victor, but you’ll have to be quicker than that.”

Sully let his forehead drop to the ground, breathing hard. He knew they were going to kill him eventually – he was only alive because of his second-hand knowledge of Nate’s research – but, with a cold kind of emptiness, he realised he didn’t care. All he wanted now was to take one or more of them with him when it happened.

He’d make sure they’d pay for taking Nate from him if it was the last thing he did.

 

***

 

They took a convoy of boats through the flooded streets, preserved by centuries of solitude. Sully slumped in his seat, staring blankly at the ruined buildings. Roman had been cross-questioning him about Nate’s research ever since the map room and Sully answered each query with a dull, monosyllabic tone. He didn’t care if they found the treasure or not. It made no difference to him. He ran through vague escape plans in his mind but they all ended up as fruitless as before. Roman had no shortage of men – Raja’s mercenaries were crawling all over the fort and the city – and any last stand would be short lived, so if he was going to go out in a blaze of glory he had to make it count.

And so he waited. He watched Navarro and Roman, biding his time until one of them made a fatal mistake…

And then, all at once, hope came rushing back in.

They were heading towards a nearby dock when a distant explosion caused all heads in the boat to turn back towards the jungle. Gunfire echoed through the city, and Navarro quickly ordered several boats to turn back and investigate.

Sully’s heart thundered in his chest as the firefight continued, nearer this time. It had to be Nate. Stealth wasn’t exactly his strong point, so if he was alive, chances are he’d have found himself some trouble. 

Sully couldn’t help but laugh. Nate being alive suddenly made it all possible – escape, finding the treasure, getting the hell off this damn island in one piece – if they were together they could pull off anything.

And, judging by the pissed off expressions on Roman and Navarro’s faces, they’d come to the same conclusion.

Sully smiled broadly at the pair of them. “Looks like the race is on, boys,” he said.

Navarro jabbed him sharply in the ribs with the butt of his rifle and Sully bent double, coughing out another laugh. But the sheer joy at the thought of seeing Nate again was worth any blow.

“He’s just one man,” Navarro spat.

Sully regained his breath and sat up, still grinning like a fool. _Yeah. But you don’t know Nathan Drake._

Roman eyed him shrewdly. “Still. It won’t hurt to be cautious,” he said slowly. “Cover every inch of the island. He won’t get far.”

Sully refused to let his smile fade. He knew it made them nervous. _And when people get nervous, they make mistakes…_

As they reached the dock, Sully looked back to see a pillar of smoke rising above the buildings in the distance. A peppering of gunshots rang out from the other side of the city.

 _Good_ , he thought, _So long as they’re still shootin’ at him, that means he’s still alive._

But a thread of worry nagged at his guts. Navarro was right. Nate was just one man. Against an _army_. He was a lucky son-of-a-bitch but Sully knew better than to rely on luck alone.

Roman’s expedition headed further into the city and Sully cast one last fearful look behind him.

_Look out for yourself, kid._

***

 

For a while, luck seemed to be on their side.

Raja’s men were dropping like flies. And it wasn’t all Nate’s doing. Sully overheard a cluster of mercenaries muttering about cursed Incan treasure. There was something else on the island, the men whispered. Something not human. It came out of the jungle and crept out from the dark caverns beneath the city and ripped men apart. Sully wasn’t sure what to make of the reports but anything that thinned out enemy numbers was fine by him so long as it left Nate alone. He even offered up a few vivid contributions of his own to fuel their paranoia until Navarro laid into them for being superstitious.

The kid was getting closer. The sound of gunfire, explosions, and collapsing masonry was almost constantly in the background. Sully looked over his shoulder at every spare moment, hoping for a glimpse of Nate, hoping for the opportunity to slip past his captors and make a break for it, but as they made their way to the heart of the washed-out colony a triumphant report over the radio made his heart sink.

“They’ve got him,” Navarro crowed, waving the walkie talkie in Sully’s face. “At the fort. Raja has him in a cell – Drake  _and_ his map.”

Sully glared at him, his hands balling into fists at his sides, but Roman stepped smoothly between them.

“Tell Raja I want him alive,” Roman instructed Navarro firmly. “He might be of more use than his partner here.” He looked at Sully with disdain, “After all, we only really need one of you.”

Sully had no illusions over who the chosen one would be, but that was irrelevant now – the important thing was that they hadn’t shot Nate on sight. He just hoped Raja would obey Roman’s orders instead of letting his history with Nate get the better of him.

_Kid sure has a way of getting under people’s skin…_

 

***

 

Less than an hour later, Navarro’s radio buzzed again. This time the message was barely comprehensible – a garbled conversation interrupted by the sound of gunshots and explosions. The mercenaries exchanged worried looks and Sully grimaced, straining to overhear the hurried conversation between Navarro and Roman.

Something about a girl breaking him out of the jail… _Elena? What the hell is she doing here?_ A chase through the jungle and over a cliff… _God, please, let them be okay._ Sully had all but stopped breathing, desperate for a sign that they were still alive.

“They’re in the city,” Navarro growled furiously. “Raja lost them – again.” His temper snapped and he threw the radio down in frustration.

Sully let out a relieved sigh and Roman’s eyes snapped up to pierce him with a warning look.

"We're wasting time here," Roman said, "And we don't need his map. We've scouted the whole island from the air. Perhaps it's time we checked the structures to the north."

Sully tried to play it cool but his urgency came through in his voice, reluctant to leave now that Nate was so close. "You sure we're not missing anything here? That 'great tower' Drake mentioned?"

Roman smiled coldly. "As much as I'm sure you'd like to hang around for your little partner, we have other priorities, Victor. But don't worry, Navarro's men will stay behind to 'take care' of him."

Sully scowled back at him.  _Hurry it up, kid. I'm ready to give these bastards what they deserve._

 

_***_

 

A short helicopter ride later, following the river, they reached an enormous monastery complex. Sully let himself be pushed and shoved towards a plaza surrounded by ornate buildings. Following Navarro’s lead, they ventured into a grandiose library which struck them all into awed silence.

 _Wait ‘til Nate sees this…_  Sully thought, clinging desperately to the hope that the kid would somehow manage to get himself out of this mess and back on the trail. From what Sully could glean from the brief radio messages going back and forth between Navarro and Raja, Nate and Elena were still causing havok back at the colony. Between that and the increasing number of suspicious deaths in the depths of the jungle - men skewered on booby traps or dragged off into the undergrowth screaming - everyone was on edge. 

“Now make yourself useful,” Roman said shortly, giving away just a hint of his own irritation, and gestured at the books surrounding them. “Isn’t this what you’re here for? Find me my treasure, Mr Sullivan, or next time I'll make sure my bullet finds its mark.”

Sully gave him a sarcastic salute and suppressed a smile as Navarro stomped out to coordinate his guards around the plaza.

Roman paced the library as Sully piled up some promising-looking tomes on a desk. Oh he’d do his job alright, but not for Roman. If there were any clues here, Sully would find them for Nate. 

Sully could barely concentrate on the books in front of him. He kept expecting Nate to come blasting through the door at any moment and couldn't help looking up at every little noise. He was sure he could still hear explosions in the distance...

Roman watched him with those shark-like eyes and Sully couldn't help himself as he caught Roman's gaze. "Raja seems to be doin' a stand-up job out there," he drawled.

Roman snarled back at him, a cruel twist to his lips. "You think Drake is coming for you?" he asked, letting out a scathing laugh. "He thinks you're dead, Victor. You should've seen him run. Didn't even look back."

Sully stared him out. He knew Roman was just trying to rile him, but there was truth there too. What if Nate really did think he'd died back in the Amazon? The kid hadn't exactly had a choice but to run, but surely he'd have tried to get back to check... Or maybe he really did think Sully had double-crossed him with Roman. Maybe he'd been relieved to be free of the old man. Maybe Sully had just been holding him back all this time... Maybe...

Sully shook his head.  _You can't think like that. That's not Nate. That's not who he is._

But it was as if Roman could hear all the doubts in his head and his smile widened. "Some people never change, Victor. You've always been a backstabbing son of a bitch. And Drake has always been a two-bit thief. You think he'll still be loyal to you after you sold him out?"

Sully looked away.  _We're partners. That's got to count for something._ How many times had Sully hauled the kid out of trouble by the scruff of his neck? How many times had he saved his life after some foolhardy decision? Sully always came back for him. Nate would do the same, no matter what. After everything they'd been through... 

 _But you lied to him_ , the little voice in the back of his head whispered, and Sully remembered Nate's face back at the jetty when he'd told him to cut Elena loose.

"Do you trust me?" Sully had asked.

And: "More or less," Nate had answered.

_You lied to his face. You got him into this mess. You betrayed him. You-_

Sully flinched as Roman leaned across the desk and tapped the journal with his pistol. "Forget about the boy. He's as good as dead anyway. Do what you're best at - looking after number one. And if you help me find El Dorado, I might just consider letting you live to cheat another day. Now get. To. Work." 

With one last look of disgust, Roman strode out of the library and a pair of armed guards took their place by the doors. Sully was frozen in place, shaking with rage and shame.

Roman was wrong. Sully wasn't that man any more - someone who only looked out for himself. He'd changed. He might still be a cheat and a thief and a liar and a conman but he'd never willingly do anything to hurt Nate. So what if he might have made a few stupid decisions - the kid would forgive him, he was sure. He just needed a chance to explain...

Sully slammed open the nearest book with grim determination. No more sitting around waiting to be rescued. No more feeling sorry for himself. Time to find a way out of this. Time to screw over these assholes and get his boy back. All he had to do was buy Nate some time - to distract Roman and Navarro enough that they could slip away - and it just so happened bullshitting was one of Sully's special talents. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a filler chapter (which is why it’s taken so long to write - sorryyyy) but ramping up to meeting back up with Nate and Elena. Planning on him and Elena having a Serious Talk once Nate is off gallivanting in the catacombs because she doesn’t trust him as far as she can throw him and there’s no way she’d let things lie, and this is pretty much how and where they get to know one another I guess! Oh Sully... you thought dealing with Nate was hard enough...


	16. The Truest Thing

“You boys ever been to Buenos Aires?” Sully asked the guards as he flicked through Sir Francis Drake’s journal, feigning concentration. “There’s a hospital there. Couple of nurses – goddesses, they were – used to fight over who got to take care of me…”

“Yeah, you told us before,” one of the mercenaries groaned, rolling his eyes.

Sully grinned at him. “Bears repeating though, right? So there I was, one leg strung up in one of those pulley things – caught a couple of bullets on a heist gone wrong – and it was time for a sponge bath…”

The guards exchanged a long-suffering look but Sully kept talking regardless, his idle chatter lulling them into an extreme state of boredom and frustration. His plan was working, but, to tell the truth, he was running out of stories.

He’d long since got rid of Roman and Navarro, sending them off to the mausoleum on an entirely made-up theory that there was some sort of code to do with grave markers, and now there were only two mercenaries left guarding him. Sully could have taken them out himself, he was pretty sure, but there were more outside and he was waiting for a sign of Nate before he made his move.

_If Nate turns up at all, that is._

Sully was trying not to let Roman’s taunts get to him but there was enough truth in them to fuel that vicious little voice in his head that told him otherwise. He’d always known, deep down, that he didn’t really deserve the kid’s loyalty. A decent person wouldn’t have let things get this messed up. A responsible person would have taken that fifteen-year-old thief and tried to set him up with a normal life, not encouraged a career of crime. A real friend wouldn’t have lied and cheated and put him in danger.

Still, here they were. Choices had been made. Their hand had been dealt. And all Sully could do now was hope he could still fix things between them.

 ** _If_** _he turns up._  

And so, he kept talking, more to distract himself from his own destructive thoughts than to irritate the mercenaries, and his stories all began to blend into one other after a while.

“…she worked in this little bar in the Philippines. Oh man, she had a smile that’d melt your heart. But I swear to God, she’d just as soon kill you as kiss you if she caught you steppin’ out. Just a wee bit of a thing. She couldn’t have been much more than four eleven. They called her ‘the spinner’ because she-” 

“Will you just shut up, old man? You told us that one a dozen times already,” the nearest mercenary snapped.

Sully laughed good-naturedly, twisting his cigar between his fingers, “Oh yeah, right, ‘course I did. Memory’s not what it used to be.”

“What the hell’s taking you so long, anyway?” the guard demanded, pointing at the papers that covered the desk in front of Sully.

Sully gave a theatrical sigh. “Well, maybe you hadn’t noticed but most of these books are half rotten. And written in Spanish.”

“Yeah, well hurry it up. The boss is waiting on you.”

_And he can keep waiting…_

Sully already had an inkling of where to look next but there was no chance he was about to share that information with Roman. It was for Nate’s eyes only.

He was about to launch into a re-telling of how he met Carolina when one of the guards jumped to his feet, pointing up at the bannisters. “Hey! Up there!”

Sully looked up at the shout to see two figures ducking behind the railing of the gallery above. A familiar voice yelled, “Ah, crap!” and the bullets began to fly. A dozen more mercs came flooding into the library at the noise and Sully dived under the table as a grenade landed right where he’d been standing. 

_Kid never did do ‘subtle’._

Every time Sully tried to make a move, gunfire pinned him down, and all he could do was stay in cover and hope Nate came out on top. Finally, there was silence, then the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Sully?"

Sully's heart leapt up into his throat. He crawled out from under the table as gracefully as he could manage and blinked tears out of his eyes as the smoke cleared and the kid appeared before him. 

“Ah man, it’s about time you showed up,” Sully said, underplaying his relief by a good ninety-nine percent. But Nate and the girl hung back, staring at him with matching looks of suspicion.

Sully faltered. He hadn't expected the kid to come running into his arms but he'd hoped he'd have been at least a little glad to see him.

“Well,” Nate said, after a pause, “You’re looking awfully good for a corpse.” There was a tightness in his voice and Sully knew that tone all too well – the kid was quick to turn almost anything into a joke but it didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed off.

Elena still had her gun out and eyed Sully shrewdly as she took a step closer.

Sully gave her a polite nod, uncomfortable under her scrutiny. “So… You brought the girl after all, huh?”

“ _The girl_?” Elena repeated.

“Hey," Nate snapped defensively, "If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t be getting rescued right now."

Elena gave a short nod of agreement. “ _If_ this is a rescue.”

_Wait, 'if'?_

The two of them were flanking him now, cornering him like an animal, almost as if they were in sync. Like _he_ was the enemy. This was not the reunion he’d expected. Sully bristled.

“What the hell does that mean?” 

“You gotta admit, Sully, this all looks a little shady,” Nate said, almost cautiously. “I mean, you tipping those guys off…”

“…and miraculously showing up alive…” Elena chimed in, her tone flat and sardonic.

_So now they’re finishing each other’s sentences._

“Now wait a goddamn minute!” Sully yelled, backing away. “Roman had a contract out on me. I needed to buy some time!”

There was no answer from either of them. Elena's eyes narrowed. Nate just looked disappointed.

Sully sighed in defeat, throwing up his hands. _Enough bullshit_. “All right, stupid mistake. I didn’t realise they’d try and track us.”

Nate leaned towards him with a flash of anger. The kid kept his voice low but Sully could hear the hurt in it. “Sully, we would’ve been headed home with the treasure by now if you’d just for once kept your mouth shut.”

Sully couldn’t stop himself. He was not about to take all the blame for this. After all he’d done for the kid. After all they’d been through.If it wasn’t for Nate and his stupid obsession with Drake he wouldn’t have got himself saddled with all that debt. And the kid  _really_ thought he’d betray him? Did Sully really mean so little to Nate that he was able to just walk away?

_Ungrateful, hot-headed, arrogant little shit-_

Sully slammed his fist on the desk, matching Nate’s glare. “And you mighta thought’ve checking for a pulse before running off and leaving me for dead!”

A heavy silence fell between them. Even Elena flinched. Nate turned away, an injured look in his eyes, and Sully regretted his words instantly.  _Damnit._ That was too close to the bone. Too soon. Too similar to the memories that tortured the kid, no matter how much he tried to shut them out. Sully calmed his breathing and tried to imagine things from Nate’s perspective for a moment – watching Sully get shot, forced to run, not knowing what had happened to him. It must have been like Sam and Panama all over again… And in that moment he realised Nate would never have left him if he’d had a choice.

Sully's chest was tight with guilt and he sighed again. “Look, none of that matters now.”

Nate still had his back to him but Elena watched him like a hawk. “Alright,” she said slowly, “So how is it you’re standing here breathing and all, huh?”

Sully forced a laugh, glad for the change of subject. “You are _not_ gonna believe this...” He searched hurriedly through the papers on the desk for Drake’s journal and held it up.

Nate turned at last and a tentative smile crept over his face as he saw the bullet hole in the diary. “No way…” he breathed, taking the book out of Sully’s hands. “Ol’ Francis took a bullet for you? I thought this kind of thing only happened in the movies.”

Sully shrugged, “Yeah, well, it still hurt like a sonofabitch, I’ll tell you that.”

He took the journal back and laid it out on the desk, eager to keep Nate focused on the treasure and make him forget about how they got into this mess.

“Look, Drake had it all figured out…”

Sully had managed to decipher a handful of clues during his time in the library – inparticular, the way the Spanish marked their treasure with the same symbol in Drake’s diary. He pointed at the illustration, looking up at the kid with a glint in his eye. “Find the symbol….” 

“Find the vault,” Nate finished, and a shred of that old familiar childish glee came creeping out again. 

“We can do this kid,” Sully said, giving him a little nudge with his shoulder. _Partners, right?_

He could feel a little buzz of excitement run through the kid at the prospect of finally tracking down Drake’s legacy. He owed Nate that, at least. That was what they were here for, after all.

“All right,” Elena drawled, draping an arm around each of their necks. “You ‘boys’ aren’t going to get all chummy and leave the girl behind again, are you?”

Nate looked sideways at him, casting an admiring glance at the girl between them. “Don’t even think about it, Sully. She’s got a mean right hook.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sully muttered, still not entirely sure what he made of the reporter, and well aware that she still didn’t seem to think much of him. Still, the kid seemed to trust her - not that Nate’s track record in women was exactly foolproof.

Sully straightened up and gestured to the library at large. “There’s more to this room than meets the eye, I’m sure of it.”

And he was right. After burying his head in his notes for a few minutes, Nate climbed up a nearby pedestal and started hauling on an angel statue, nodding at the compass points marked on the marble floor. “Look, they’re the same symbols in Drake’s journal…”

Elena and Sully watched Nate work in baffled silence until they heard the low grinding of stone and a hidden entrance opened up between two bookshelves.

The girl let out a low whistle of disbelief as they crept through into a darkened room full of books.

“Another library?” Sully moaned. He’d had enough of this place to last him a lifetime already.

"I wish I had my camera..." Elena whispered.

Nate ignored them both as he checked his journal again, then leapt forward with a cry of triumph and hauled on a pair of two ornate torches. An archway slid open before them, leading to a stone tunnel that descended into the belly of the island. 

“The land of the dead…” the kid said. 

The three of them stared into the catacombs. It smelt musty and damp and ominous dripping echoes sounded from deep underground. It was the kind of place that made every instinct in Sully's body scream, “Run!”

He and Elena lingered at the entrance but Nate was already sticking his head through the archway, his eyes bright with the hunt.

Sully shook his head. _This is what he does. This is what he lives for._ And he knew he’d never stood a chance at giving the kid a normal life, whether he wanted to or not.

“You two stay here,” Nate ordered firmly, waving off their protestations. “One person’ll make a lot less noise than three.”

This time it was Elena and Sully who exchanged a knowing look, especially as Nate’s voice took on that ‘hey, what’s the worst that could happen’ tone. 

“C’mon, I’ll be fine. And you guys’ll be safe here, they don’t even know about this room.”

Sully snorted. Since when had the tables turned and Nate started worrying about keeping him safe?

_Probably ever since he thought he'd lost you, idiot._

Sully knew there was no arguing with him. He handed the kid a walkie talkie instead, wishing there was time to say all the things that were running through his head. There would be time after, he told himself. There better be.

Elena seemed to have the same misgivings and followed Nate to the edge of the doorway, an uncertain twist to her lips.

“Nate. Be careful…” 

“C’mon, I always am,” Nate laughed, turning back to the doorway and immediately whacking his head on the low stone arch. 

“I did _not_ see that,” he grouched, rubbing his forehead as he ducked through. 

Sully saw Elena stifle a smile and shook his head as Nate headed off into the darkness. _Ever the charmer, kid._

And then it was just Sully and Elena, alone in the hidden library. And she was watching him with that same shrewd expression, like she wanted to cross-question him. Or crucify him. Sully suddenly wished he’d made more of an argument to go with Nate. 

“So…” she said, with a tick of her tongue.

“So...” Sully echoed nervously.

There was an awkward silence for a minute or so before Elena nodded thoughtfully at the secret entrance. “Is he always like this?” she asked. 

“Like what?”

“All… gung-ho, headlong into danger…” she said in a mock deep voice.

Sully chuckled. “That’s sort of his MO.”

“Hmm,” she replied, and it was a loaded kind of noise, hinting at disbelief.

“You don't think so?” Sully asked.

“Well,” Elena said, walking a slow circle around the bookshelves. “A coupla hours ago he was ready to leave all this behind. Cut his losses. Said ‘it wasn’t worth dying over’.”

Sully frowned. That didn’t sound like the Nate he knew. The kid was like a dog on a scent when he had a treasure to find. And Drake's quest was The One. Maybe the girl had had more of an effect on him than Sully realised.

Elena completed her circle and ended up in front of Sully, staring up at him with a piercing look. Small as she was, she jabbed a finger into his chest so hard he had to take a step back.

“And then _one word_ from you and off he goes…”

“He… He wanted to leave?” Sully repeated, failing to hide the disappointment in his voice.

Elena’s face softened a little, a little crease of pity between her eyebrows. “We thought you were _dead_ , Sully,” she said quietly. “It really shook him up.”

Sully gave a brief nod. He could only imagine what had been going through Nate’s mind. Guilt pressed down on him, making the dim room feel more claustrophobic than it already was.

“And then,” Elena continued, “when we saw you with Roman and Navarro…” She shrugged, letting him fill in the rest.

“You thought I’d screwed him over,” Sully said flatly. It wasn’t a question.

“Something like that.”

Sully hid his feelings by plastering on a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, well, I was just stringin’ them along. Sometimes you’ve gotta play up to your typecasting.”  
  
“Yours being a double-crossing asshole?” Elena said with a quirk of a smile.

Sully didn’t think she meant it in a cruel way – the girl had the driest sense of humour he’d ever seen. And so he acknowledged the dig with a gracious spread of his arms. “More or less.”

Another awkward silence. Elena fiddled with the spine of a book, wriggling it out from its place on the tightly-packed shelves. “He trusted you,” she said softly. “Despite the ‘evidence’. Said you were a lot of things, but you weren’t a backstabber.”

She looked up at him then, as if seeking confirmation, just a trace of anxiety on her face.

Sully was suddenly vividly aware of how it must have seemed. And now, alone in a secret room, with a guy she barely knew, she had the _cojones_ to confront him about it. For all she knew he really was a double-crossing asshole and would sell her out to Roman in a heartbeat. Or worse. His respect for the reporter grew a couple of sizes.   

He reached out and took both of her hands in his as gently as he could, looking her straight in the eye. “Nate was right. You can trust me. God knows I’ve got some things to atone for in this life but betraying the kid is not one of ‘em. And never will be. He’s like… a son to me.”

He didn’t know why he said it. He’d never said it aloud before, as often as he’d thought it. Not even to Nate. He had no idea why he was suddenly spilling his heart out to some random girl but after everything that had happened over the last few days he felt like an exposed nerve – raw and vulnerable. And for some reason it wasn't weird, or embarrassing, or wrong. Nate _was_ like a son to him. It was the truest thing he’d ever said.

Elena was looking up at him with a strange smile. “Okay then,” she said, giving his hands a little squeeze. "I trust you too."

After a brief moment they broke apart, turning their separate ways to browse the library as if they hadn’t just had some bizarre heart-to-heart with a total stranger. 

Sully peered at the bookshelves without really reading the titles. He could still feel her eyes on him. And sure enough, the journalist part of her couldn’t help but ask another question.

“So uh… how’d you two get tangled up in all this?" she said in a lighter tone. "No offence but you’re something of an odd couple.”

Sully barked out a laugh. He’d wondered the same thing himself, plenty of times. “Would you believe me if I said ‘destiny’?”

When he looked over his shoulder Elena was shaking her head ruefully. “Y’know, I’m starting to believe Nate really might have some kind of link with Francis Drake,” she said.

Sully smiled, pride and admiration for his boy - his son - glowing in his bruised chest.

“Yeah, maybe he does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have Papa Sully feels and here they are. I'm also enjoying writing Elena sooo much. She's so balls-crazy in UC1 I love it.


	17. Contagious

Nate had been gone an hour and the air in the secret library was starting to get stuffy. Elena sat cross-legged on the floor with a book in her lap, squinting in the low light. Aside from the occasional rumble of explosives deep underground they hadn’t heard a peep from the kid. Translating the ancient papers was slow and frustrating, and they were both getting antsy. Elena had resorted to just looking at the pictures since her Spanish was more than a little rusty, but her approach was a lot faster than Sully’s as she flicked through each book, and eventually it paid off.

“Look!” she said suddenly, holding up a battered book, “There’s that symbol again. Looks like it’s inside the church. Like a hidden gallery or something…”

“Atta girl…” Sully gave her a gentle slap on the shoulder in appreciation and scoured the pages, relaying the info to Nate over the radio.

“You think it’s really still here? The treasure?” Elena asked Sully.

Sully shrugged. The prospect of the gold was becoming less and less alluring the longer they spent on this godforsaken island. He hated it when the kid went off on his own, leaving him twiddling his thumbs on the end of the radio.

“If anyone can find it, Nate can,” he replied.

Except, as usual, it was never quite that easy.

Less than half an hour the kid checked in again. Only this time he sounded dog tired and disillusioned.

“Hey, Sully,” Nate sighed, “You remember Roman and Navarro, and that red herring you sent them on to get them out of the way?”

“Yeah,” Sully said slowly.

“Well, they’re sitting right on top of the treasure vault.”

Elena gave a groan of frustration. Sully tossed down the book he’d been flicking through and kicked it into a corner. “Of all the goddamn luck…”

“Look,” Nate said, “I’m gonna need a diversion to get them out of there…”

Sully caught Elena’s eye to make sure she was on board and she nodded quickly, without even pausing to consider the danger they were about to put themselves in.

“You got it, kid,” he said. “One diversion, comin’ up.” Even though he had no idea what that might be.

But Elena was already on her feet as the radio scratched back into silence, listening at the door to the library to check the coast was clear. “Y’know, on our way in here I think I saw a cart…”

Sully blinked. “A cart?”

“Yeah,” she said sarcastically, “You know: wooden thing on wheels? For carrying stuff?”

“Okay…” Sully said slowly. “I’m gonna need more than a cart to work with here.”

Elena shushed him with a wave of her hand and led the way back into the main library. Picking her way through the detritus, she scooped up an ammunition belt from the floor and passed it back to Sully. “So, there’s a whole bunch of explosives just lyin’ around…” she continued. “And we just so happen to be at the top of a hill.”

Her proposed plan began to dawn on Sully and a laugh burst out of him. “So… Pile up the cart, set off the fireworks and send it on its way?”

Elena grinned and nodded, carefully gathering up a handful of grenades. “The monastery’s right at the bottom of the street – should be enough of a distraction to get them away from the mausoleum, right?”

Sully gave her an admiring look. “I like the way your mind works, Miss Fisher.”

She shrugged. “Gotta learn to think on your feet around you two.”

 

* * *

 

Elena’s plan was certainly… loud. Sully managed to rig up a fuse to connect to the stack of ammo and explosives in the back of the cart, which gave them just enough time to hightail it back into the library before all hell broke loose.

The cart rattled down the street and careered into a pillar at the foot of the monastery, just as the first grenade went off.

“Holy shit…” Elena whispered beside him as they peeked through a gap in the doors.

It was like the fourth of July. The cart went up in a fireball and one whole corner of the building collapsed with a ground-shaking boom. Just as they'd hoped, Roman’s men came running from all over the plaza – and, most importantly, from the mausoleum – and Sully and Elena quickly ducked back into the secret room and slipped down into the catacombs, unseen.

The whizzes and bangs of spontaneously combusting bullets and grenades went on for much longer than Sully had expected, growing fainter and fainter the deeper they ventured into the tunnels. He almost wished they’d been able to stay and watch, but he was far more eager to meet back up with the kid and get the hell off of this rock, and they made their way through the maze of passages at a run.

They paused for breath in a low-ceilinged chamber, exchanging shaky grins.

“Man, I hope that worked,” Elena said.

Sully gave her a reassuring nod and held out his hand to help her up to the next ledge. “Well, it should keep them busy for a while, at least.”

She took the helping hand and returned the favour by hauling him up after her. “Y’know,” she grunted, “this whole treasure hunting thing involves a lot more near-death experiences than I imagined.”

Sully snorted. “Yeah, it’s in the small print, kiddo.”

“Is it always this… crazy?”

“When Nate’s involved? Yeah, pretty much.”

She stopped to stare at him incredulously for a moment. “You do this a lot huh? How the hell are you two even still alive?”

Sully treated her to one of his most charming smiles. “Sheer dumb luck, my dear.”

She cackled at that. “Well, at least you’re honest,” she shrugged, heading on down the trail.

Sully followed after, his smile remaining on his face long after they dropped back into silence. He found himself enjoying her company – despite the constant questions. The girl had a certain something. She didn’t mind getting her hands dirty and she didn't complain. She was quick and smart and perceptive and _never_ passed by an opportunity to weasel out the truth. Plus, she clearly didn’t suffer fools gladly, which was certainly a good thing where Nate was concerned – the kid needed someone to kick his ass occasionally, and god knows Sully was tired of doing it… She had a softer side, too. She cared. He’d seen the way she’d looked at the kid. And she’d saved Nate’s life more than once, from what Sully could gather. He dreaded to think what would have happened if she hadn’t followed after him… 

“Hey, uh, I wanted to thank you, by the way,” Sully said, voicing his thoughts. “For breaking Nate out of that jail cell. For lookin’ out for him. And coming back for me, of course.”

She smirked over her shoulder. “You’re welcome,” she said. “And he saved me, too, you know. I’m lucky I only lost my camera.”

“Still,” he said, quieter this time. “I’m glad you were there.”

Elena paused, wiping sweat out of her eyes and peering at him in the flicker of the torchlight. “You worry about him, don’t you?”

He scoffed. “Have you _met_ Nate? Of course I do.”

She laid a comforting hand on his arm. “Well, he seems to be pretty good at getting out of a tight spot. Learned that from you, huh?”

Sully gave a grunt of admission. “Good at getting himself _into_ tight spots, too.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” she smirked.

_Let’s just hope we all make it out of this one in one piece…_

“So, what made you come after him?” he asked her, as they headed up a long stone staircase.

She cast him a scathing look. “You guys ditched me at that dock! Which made me think there was something worth chasing...”

Sully shook his head. She was more like Nate than she realised. “Seems like a lotta trouble for a story though," he probed. "Most people would’ve run a mile. Is it worth it? Especially now you don’t even have your camera to prove it.”

Elena leaned against the wall and fiddled with her belt awkwardly, “Honestly? I dunno. When Nate found that journal… He was so excited. Like a little kid. And when he talks about Drake he gets this look in his eye… It’s kinda contagious.”

_Don’t I know it. And once you’ve caught the bug there’s no cure…_

She fixed him with one of those soul-piercing looks again. “It’s not just about the treasure, is it? That ring around his neck means a lot to him, huh?”

Sully gave a weary sigh, thinking back to Cartegena, back to that fifteen-year-old scamp with delusions of grandeur. Not much had changed in the past ten years, except the weight of their losses and the raising of their stakes. “Yeah, well, he’s got a lot more tied up in this than he lets on.”

“And what about you?” she asked.

What did he have tied up in this? _Family_ , he wanted to say. The only one he’d ever really known. He raised half a smile. “What can I say? It’s contagious.”

“Well,” she said, looking sideways at him, “You’re not what I expected, anyway. Either of you. My producer said you were likely a couple of con-artists…”

“He was half right,” Sully chuckled.

“Yeah but you’re not like Roman or Navarro. They’re just in it for the money, the glory. Nate’s chasing a _legend_. I guess that’s what got me interested.” 

“And Nate?” Sully said, without thinking.

He could see her blushing even in the dim light. “What about him?” she answered – a little too quickly.

“You ‘interested’ in him, too?”

“Pfft.” She turned away, but he could see a smile creeping across her lips. “You tryin’ to play matchmaker, Sully?”

“Just readin’ the signs…”

“I think he’s got other things on his mind right now,” she said, rolling her eyes. “C’mon, we’re almost there.”

They continued on, making their way up to the now deserted mausoleum and finally emerging into the cool air of the tomb. They’d barely made it through the door when Nate slipped through behind them, breathing hard, covered in scrapes and bruises and dust. Sully breathed a sigh of relief and resisted the urge to check the kid over for more serious injuries. Nate had that intense look in his eyes – the one he got when he was high on adrenaline and fear and single-minded determination. He was already running his hands over the walls and engravings, looking for the next clue.

“So what’s next?” Sully asked.

Nate gave him a quick, sheepish grin. “I don’t know, I’m figuring it out as I go.”

_Sounds about right._

But sure enough, Drake’s journal had the answers once again. Another code. More symbols. And one last hidden entrance. 

They stood back as a semi-circular wall slid up into a channel, revealing a cavern beyond. This was it. The vault. The air turned electric with anticipation.

Breaking the spell, Nate unceremoniously swept a pile of bones off the tomb, tossing a skull back to Sully. “Heads up!”

Sully caught it reflexively, frowning at the bony grin for a second before throwing it over his shoulder. Nate and Elena were already clambering over the stone plinth, sweeping their torches around the room.

“Whadayya make of it?” Sully asked.

“I dunno,” Nate muttered. “Looks like it might be a dead end.”

“Wait, it looks like there might be a passage this way-” Elena said, wandering further in, and there was an ominous clinking sound as she stepped on a pressure plate. “Uh oh…”

Nate’s face dropped. “Oh shit.”

A deep grinding noise sounded from all around. “What the hell’s that?” Sully murmured, sticking his head through the entrance.

Nate darted back towards him, a horror-stricken expression on his face. “Sully get out of there!”

“Huh?”

“It’s a trap!”

Nate dove forward and shoved him backwards, just as the stone archway slammed back down into place - right where Sully had been a moment before.

Sully landed hard and sat there in the darkness for a moment, stunned.

The kid’s voice came through the radio, urgent and ragged. “Sullivan, are you okay?  Sully!”

Sully scrambled to extract the walkie talkie from underneath him. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Still in one piece. You knocked me on my ass, though,” he grumbled, rubbing his hip. He had the distinct feeling he was starting to get too old for this shit.

He got to his feet with a groan, acutely aware of a host of fresh bruises. He tried to re-open the doorway but it was no use. The ancient mechanism was busted and there was no getting through. 

He slapped the stone in frustration. Every time he thought had the kid back they got separated. But at least Elena was with him. That was something. He’d gathered a whole lot of respect for the girl after their brief time together in the catacombs. And Nate seemed to practice a little more caution when he was around her.

“You’d better get back to the library,” Nate said, his voice muffled and distant through the radio.

_Yeah, great. I’ll just sit and fret about you for another couple of hours, shall I?_

“Just… You two be careful, okay?” Sully said, but the signal was faint and there was no reply. They must already be too far away.

He clipped the radio back onto his belt with a sigh.

_Goddamnit. Alone again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be working, you know. But here I am, feeding the fanfic beast. More Sully & Elena shenanigans for your reading pleasure. And, if all goes to plan, the next chapter should finish up UC1...


	18. Keep Him Safe

Sully didn’t sit and fret. He didn’t think about the ‘what ifs’. He made a decision. He wasn’t some decrepit old man and he wasn’t a damsel in distress. He’d been doing this shit a lot longer than the kid and he’d be damned if he was going to wait around any longer. 

And so he sneaked his way out of the goddamn mausoleum and hunkered up in a corner of the goddamn plaza and started picking off Navarro’s goddamn mercenaries with a goddamn sniper rifle. 

His original plan still stood: if he wasn't getting out of here, he'd damn well sure take as many of these sons-of-bitches with him. For a while he caused some glorious chaos as the men ran around in a blind panic, unable to figure out where he was hiding, but soon enough their sheer numbers prevailed and he was forced to run and gun, switching the rifle for a semi-automatic and ducking from wall to wall to stop himself getting outflanked.

He crouched behind a fountain to catch his breath and the familiar sound of the crackling radio snapped him to attention.

“Sully, are you there? Damnit, Sully come in!”

Sully snatched up the radio, grateful, as always, to hear the kid’s voice after being apart for so long. “Thank God, Nate. Where are you?”

Nate sounded breathless, like he was running. “Heading your way.” He paused for a moment and when his voice came through again it had a hitch in it. “They’ve got Elena. We have to stop ‘em.”

Sully’s stomach plummeted with fresh dread. _I told you we n_ _ever should have got the girl involved, kid…_

But he wasn’t able to dwell on it. A bullet pinged off the wall a few inches from his ear and he threw himself into a running crouch. “Yeah, got problems of my own,” he muttered, “Bastards have me pinned down outside the church.”

“Almost there,” Nate replied, and radio silence returned - not that Sully would have heard anything else anyway as a barrage of gunfire erupted over his head.

_For Chrissakes how many guys does Navarro have?_

He skirted around the fountain at the centre of the plaza, making a mental map of his many enemies’ positions. They were everywhere – up on the balconies with laser-sighted rifles and grenade launchers, creeping around from behind with shotguns and AK-47s, lobbing Mk-NDIs at him whenever he thought he was safe…

Acting on some sixth sense, Sully span round and took out an armoured mercenary who was two steps away from putting a bullet in his head. His blood thrummed with adrenaline and fear as he scanned the area for more targets, every shadow looking like a threat. He was used to long odds but this was getting ridiculous.

_Hurry the hell up, Nate._

An explosion announced the kid’s arrival, leaping over a low wall as a mushroom cloud of smoke plumed up behind him. Nate made his way to Sully single-mindedly, dodging the laser sights that chased him, and scrambling behind the fountain beside his partner with a grunt of effort.

The kid was all busted up – a smear of blood on his forehead, knuckles scraped and bruised, and a tight look in his eyes. “We gotta stop ‘em Sully,” Nate panted, “They don’t know what they’re dealing with.”

“What do you-?”

Nate shook his head, his face grim. “I don’t know how, but that statue destroyed the whole colony, and it killed the Germans too.”

“Woah, woah, come again?”

“There’s no time,” Nate said, popping up over the wall to let off a few shots before ducking back down again. “We’ve got to get to the church.”

He was right - there was no time for discussion. The assault redoubled now that there were two of them, and they fought back to back, covering each other through every painstaking advance towards the church at the far end of the plaza.

And it didn’t end there. Navarro’s mercs had fortified the church, too, and the moment they stepped through the doors a sniper bullet whistled past them, thudding into the back wall. Sully grabbed Nate by the collar and shoved him behind a pillar, returning fire as the kid reloaded, both of them breathing hard. Sully took a brief headcount, darting back behind cover before a potshot could take his head off.

_Okay, so the odds are longer than we thought..._

"You ready for this, kid?" he said, patting Nate on the shoulder. The kid's eyes were bright with the terrifying thrill of survival. His muscles were tight under Sully's hand and Sully was glad he wasn't going to be on the receiving end of whatever shitstorm Nate was about to unleash. The kid had always been a scrapper but when he got going... you didn't want to stand in his way.

One nod was all it took – over the years they’d developed an almost psychic connection when it came to fighting – and they took a side each, slowly working their way up towards the dais, aisle by aisle.

Halfway down the church, Sully spared a moment to look over at the kid. He never stopped marveling at how capable Nate was, much as he’d rather they didn’t end up in these kinds of situations quite so often. Nate fought haphazardly – he wasn’t the best shot and he wasn’t the most graceful fighter but he got the job done, and used every opportunity thrown at him. But Sully had never seen him fight like this before. The kid was furious, bloody-minded, and lethal. He wasn’t fighting for the treasure, or even for his own life – the way his voice had cracked on the word ‘Elena’ told Sully everything he needed to know. Sully's brow furrowed in determination. 

_Well, I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let him lose her, too._

After what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes, the church echoed with silence. Sully peered through the misty gunsmoke for the kid, circling around a broken pew, and came face to face with the barrel of a pistol.

“Hey, hey, it’s me,” Sully breathed, taken aback at the intensity in Nate's eyes. It was as if he was acting on pure instinct. 

The kid let out a shaky sigh and lowered his gun, slumping back against a pillar. Sully tried to remember when either of them had slept. Or eaten. Sully had had plenty of waiting around to do but the kid had been on his feet this whole time - and god only knew what had gone on in that vault to rile him up so much. 

“What the hell happened down there, kid?” Sully asked carefully.

Nate couldn’t seem to organise his thoughts into words. He shook his head wearily. “They’ve got Elena,” he was all he could manage, and when he looked back up at Sully his eyes were wide and pleading.

Sully clenched his jaw so hard it hurt. “We'll get her back,” he promised. “C’mon.”

As he pulled the kid to his feet, Nate winced, staggering for a moment and leaning heavily on the nearest pillar. The right arm of his shirt was dark with blood and Sully held him steady while he inspected the wound. A long gash crossed his forearm - too ragged for a knife. It looked more like... but that was impossible... it looked like a claw mark...

“Jesus, Nate, we need to patch you up.”

But Nate pushed his hands away, pointing with his gun at the raised dais at the rear of the church. “No. We gotta go,” he grunted. “The altar. Help me move it.”

Sully reluctantly followed him, wondering how many other wounds the kid was hiding, but he knew there was no arguing with him. Nate probably didn’t even feel it anyway, pumped up on adrenaline and consumed with his concern for Elena.

The huge stone altar scraped against the marble floor as they shoved it aside, revealing a hole in the floor that led down into another goddamn tunnel system. 

Wordlessly, they dropped down into the darkness and Nate sped off immediately, seemingly following some innate sense of direction. Sully could barely keep up with him but managed to grab a hold of his uninjured arm as they turned a corner.

“Hey. You wanna tell me what the hell’s going on?” Sully barked, tired of being left behind and left out of the loop.

Nate didn’t stop but slowed a little and pulled Sully along behind him, heading towards a glimmer of light at the tunnel’s end. “Drake didn’t want to get the treasure off the island, Sully,” he explained in a rush. “He was trying to stop it from _leaving_.”

“What?”

“It’s... cursed or something.”

Sully let out a scathing noise. “Oh Nate, for God’s sake…”

The kid sighed again. “Look, I know it sounds crazy. You’ve just gotta trust me.”

 _Of course I trust you_ , Sully thought, but he’d had enough superstition from Raja and his men and knew Nate wasn’t thinking clearly. The kid was shaken up, battered, and worried about Elena almost to the point of hysteria.

“What the hell did you find down there?” he asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.

Nate paused briefly, leaning against the rough stone wall, hands braced against his knees. He looked back at Sully for just a second before casting his eyes down at the floor. “I found... Francis Drake.”

The kid instinctively raised his hand to the ring around his neck but Sully noticed it was gone. Nate let his arm drop again. “What was left of him, anyway," he shrugged. "He never made it. It wasn't what he thought. El Dorado, it's- It's... a nightmare…” 

None of it made sense to Sully but he could feel the dread peeling off Nate like a wave. The kid kept glancing nervously behind them, as if he was expecting to see some kind of monster appear out of the blackness. The hairs on Sully’s neck prickled.

“Raja’s dead,” Nate said flatly. “The Germans, too. And the Spanish. They’re all dead. And Elena-” He choked off the thought abruptly.

Sully grasped his shoulder roughly, pushing him onward. “She’s gonna be okay,” he said gruffly.

_She has to be._

* * *

 

The tunnel soon widened into a cavern, split through with a deep channel of water. Nate and Sully emerged on an upper level, guns out and ready as they crept towards the sound of voices below.

Sully stifled a gasp as a huge golden statue came into view. _El goddamn Dorado_. It was a great big ugly thing with the face of a grimacing demon, and the sight of it made Sully's skin crawl for some reason. Roman stood beside it, Navarro to the side, one hand held tight around Elena’s upper arm. Her hands were bound behind her but she looked to be in one piece, at least. A smattering of mercenaries filled the rest of the chamber, but none of them had spotted Nate and Sully yet.

They moved towards the edge of the overhang as silently as possible. Sully scanned their options and knew Nate was doing the same beside him. They were outnumbered ten to one but maybe if they got the jump on Roman and his men-

The click of cocking guns made them both freeze. Two goons with shotguns appeared out of the shadows behind them and Roman looked up with a smile, as if he’d known they were there all along. 

“You two should realise by now that I plan for every contingency,” Roman said smoothly. “Now drop your weapons. No heroics, please, or I _will_ kill her.”

Navarro shoved Elena forward for emphasis and she stared up at them with a look that managed to convey both gratitude and resignation. Now all three of them were caught, they had no option but to do what Roman said.

Nate and Sully begrudgingly tossed their guns into the water, raising their hands slowly. Sully could hear the grinding of the kid’s teeth beside him and begged silently for him not to do anything stupid. Guns to their backs, weaponless, and with Elena as collateral – the odds were suddenly a lot worse.

They watched helplessly as Navarro instructed Roman to open the statue – it was a sort of sarcophagus – but instead of a mummy, there was a twisted corpse, its grotesque face screaming silently from the grave.

“No…” Nate whispered in horror, but it was too late. Roman jerked back as some sort of gas burst from the statue, spraying him right in the face. He staggered, contorting wildly and clawing at his eyes, yelling in pain. When he looked up again he was bleeding from his nose and mouth, and the whites of his eyes had turned completely black. The mercenaries all around him took horrified steps backward as Roman lurched towards Navarro, but the archaeologist let out a cruel laugh and aimed his pistol at his former boss.

“What the…?” Sully began, and was cut off by the gunshot. Roman’s body fell to the ground with a thud, a bullet hole in his forehead, and a stunned silence filled the cavern.

Sully’s blood ran cold.  _It’s a goddamn biological weapon…_

Navarro leapt into action, gesturing impatiently at his men to begin hoisting the statue up into a net suspended from a helicopter hovering above. 

Nate started forward, ignoring the nervous mercs behind him. “Navarro, that thing wiped out an entire colony,” he yelled. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Wrong,” Navarro snarled, “I’m the only person on this island who knows what the hell he’s doing.”

Sully’s fingers itched. They were running out of time. Once Navarro got the statue out of here there would be no reason to keep Elena alive. He could hear Nate’s breathing becoming ragged with panic beside him.

_We need a plan, kid, and quick…_

Nate took another step forward and one of the mercs jabbed him in the small of the back with his shotgun. “Ah-ah,” the man growled. Nate cast a deadly look over his shoulder but didn't make another move, as much as he clearly wanted to.

The archaeologist sneered up at him. “You are so pathetic. All of you, scrambling around for your petty treasures.” He nudged Roman’s dead body with his foot. “Do you have _any_ idea what this is worth to the right buyer?”

Sully could well imagine. Far more than he’d ever owed Roman. And he also knew there was no reasoning with people who saw the world in terms of dollar signs. Nothing was worth the pain and destruction this... _thing_ could cause. 

His train of thought was abruptly cut off by an inhuman noise reverberating through the cavern. Shadows began to move all around them, growling and rasping. Out of the cracks and tunnels humanoid shapes came creeping, their naked limbs elongated and twisted, their eyes blackened and their faces full of primal murderous intent.

Nate’s voice came out in a hoarse whisper of fear, “Oh no...”

“What the hell is that?” Sully said, unable to tear his eyes from the nightmarish sight. The creatures were coming from every direction – all spidery limbs and skull-like faces – and Navarro’s men spun into a panic as the monsters began to attack, ripping men to pieces, slashing with their knife-like nails and tearing with their blackened teeth.

“It’s the Spaniards. They never left,” Nate said breathlessly, and he and Sully turned in perfect synchronicity, snatching the shotguns from the guards and knocking the stunned men into the water below. They turned their weapons towards Navarro but he was already halfway up a stone staircase, heading towards the waiting helicopter and dragging Elena behind him. The statue hung from the chopper, wrapped in military-grade netting, its gruesome face almost taunting as it swung back and forth.

Nate looked like he was about to throw up. “My God, if that thing gets off the island…”

Sully took a long, slow breath and prepped his gun. Creatures were edging towards the upper level now, alerted by the scuffle with the guards. It was a long way from here to the helicopter and Sully knew they only had one chance. Nate was faster. And there was no way they’d both make it.

“You gotta stop him,” Sully said firmly. “I’ll cover you from here.”

Nate was about to protest but the nearest creature darted forward and Sully took its head off with a single shot. “Go!” he snapped at Nate, and the kid didn’t need telling twice. He threw himself down the stairway, dodging the mutated Spaniards and firing wildly from the hip as Sully cleared a path for him, picking off each target with precision.

Sully could hear scrabbling in the tunnel behind him but he didn't dare look around - all his focus was bent on making sure Nate made it to that helicopter. _Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Keep them away from him. Keep him safe._

Not that reaching the chopper would be a whole lot safer than here on the ground. If he made it, Nate would have Navarro and a couple of armoured mercs to deal with, not to mention keeping Elena alive, too… Still, anywhere was better than this nightmare of an island right now. As if to prove his point, a gristly noise made him spin and he snapped off a shot just as one of the creatures lunged for him. The blast splattered him with gore and bone fragments, and he blinked in shock. No wonder the kid hadn't been able to find a way to articulate what he'd seen. This was something straight outta hell.

Sully swallowed thickly. _Focus. Focus._ But there were too many of them. He steadied his breathing and turned back to the cavern. _Just cover the kid. That's all you have to do._

Nate was half-way up the stairs now, grappling with one of Navarro’s men. A shot rang out and Sully's breath hitched in his chest as Nate stumbled backwards, almost tripping back down the steps. For a terrible moment he imagined the worst, but then the kid regained his footing and forged on upward, the merc crumpling in a heap at his feet.

He was almost at the top when a creature bounded up the stairs behind him. Sully dropped to one knee and tightened up his aim, managing to wing the monster with a scatter of buckshot. It span sideways, tumbling down the staircase into two more of its buddies, and Nate looked back in surprise, unaware of how close he'd come to being mauled. The kid caught Sully's eye from across the chasm and nodded his thanks before running on.

_Get out of here, kid. Just go…_

Nate disappeared around a turn in the stairs as the helicopter began to rise slowly, weighed down with its golden cargo. Sully watched its ascent with growing apprehension.

_It's too far away. He’s not gonna make it._

And then a figure appeared, silhouetted against the sky, leaping from the top of the staircase and grabbing hold of the netting around the statue. Sully released the breath he’d been holding as Nate swung from the net, grappling for purchase.

Sully let out a relieved sigh. There was nothing else he could do now - the rest was on the kid.

But it was far from over. Another wave of creatures swarmed across the walls towards Sully and he was pushed back towards the tunnel, firing blindly now, trying vainly to keep one eye on the monsters and one eye on the chopper. He was running out of ammo and the floor of the cavern was a battlefield of slithering pink creatures and black-clad mercenaries, all fighting for their lives and all, apparently, out for Sully’s blood.

He fought by instinct alone, smashing the butt of his shotgun into the face of the nearest creature, kicking another over the edge of the cliff, and blasting a hole through the next monster’s chest. But more were coming up the stairs now. And with a surprisingly calm sense of finality he realised: there was no way he was going to make it out of here.

 _This is it_. _This is_ _how it ends._

There was no time for regrets. He was down to his last two shells and there were five times that many creatures between him and the stairs. He tried not to think about what it would feel like when one of them sunk its claws into him, or ripped out his throat with one snarling tear of its teeth…

The most important thing was that Nate had gotten out. He wished he’d had a chance to say goodbye, but the kid had to know how he felt about him by now. And if he didn’t, Elena knew. He'd told her as much. He’d given pretty much everything he had to Nate over the past ten years, and he'd do it all over again in an instant. And besides, the kid was grown now. He didn’t need Sully any more. He would be okay...

A burst of gunfire from above jerked him out of his thoughts. As he looked up, he saw the helicopter lurch sideways, dangerously out of control. Nate still dangled from the netting, barely holding on but blood splattered the windshield and they were losing altitude rapidly.

 _No, no, no…_ _They’re going down…_

A burst of fury at the unfairness of it all coursed through Sully’s veins. For once they’d tried to do the right thing – to save the goddamn world – and everything was _still_ going to shit. Sully had had enough of it: psychopathic crimelords, trigger-happy pirates, genocidal maniacs, and whatever the hell these monster things were... No. He'd be damned if he'd let them get the better of Victor goddamn Sullivan.

_Screw this._

As the creatures advanced, Sully strafed sideways, trying to find an angle he could slip through. Shouts echoed through a tunnel to his left as a handful of Raja’s men came running towards the cavern – the distant wink of daylight flashing behind them.

Sully's hope soared. _Another way out!_

He moved without thinking. As soon as the first pirate emerged from the tunnel Sully ripped the AK-47 out of the man’s hands, swinging him around into the pack of creatures at the top of the stairs. Sully didn’t stop to look. The poor guy’s screams were evidence enough that the move had bought him a couple of seconds at least. And, as the pirate’s companions stopped to gape in horror and disbelief, Sully elbowed past them, sprinting full pelt down the tunnel to freedom.

_Sorry boys, but that's what you get when you trust assholes like Navarro and Roman._

The passage led straight out onto the beach and Sully stopped to gasp in deep lungfuls of fresh air, checking jerkily over his shoulder in case any of those horrific monsters had followed him. Thankfully, and with some long overdue luck, the beach was clear. A handful of boats were clustered at anchor in the shallow cove, and he wasted no time in wading out to the nearest one. The helicopter was still limping through the air above, heading out to sea, but it wouldn't belong before it had to ditch a landing and Sully needed to be there when it did.

He hauled himself onto the boat to find the corpse of a pirate draped face-down over the boat's steering wheel, bloody gashes across his back. Another floated in the water, a red stain spreading around his limp body. The creatures had got here first, evidently. _Thank god they don't know how to sail a boat..._

Sully shuddered involuntarily and rolled the body over the side of the boat and into the water. With a brief prayer to the god of thieves he turned the keys in the ignition and was answered by the glorious sound of the engine roaring to life.

Storm clouds lingered on the horizon and the helicopter was headed straight for them, towards a huge trawler ship in the distance. The chopper was floundering now, spiralling in circles, and Sully winced as it came in for a crash landing on the bow of the boat. He hoped Nate wasn't still underneath all that.

He urged the little craft onward but its top speed was a lumbering cruise. Sully was still too far away to see what was happening on the trawler but the distant sound of gunfire was ironically reassuring.  _If they’re shooting at anyone, they’re gonna be shooting at Nate..._

He left the wheel for a moment to check on the cargo and see if there was any dead weight he could jettison to make the boat go quicker, but when he peeled back the tarp his jaw fell open.

 _Well,_  he laughed ruefully to himself, _P_ irates _will be pirates…_

There was enough treasure there for them to live the high life for a good couple of years – or at least finance the next foolhardy hunt – but it didn’t matter if there was no Nate to share it with. He needed speed right now, not riches.

Sully tore at the tarpaulin, ready to haul the load over the side, when an explosion ballooned into the sky above the trawler, followed by the familiar crack of a high caliber rifle. Sully ducked instinctively, peering through the lashing rain at the larger boat, but they weren’t shooting at him. He could see a pair of figures on the upper deck grappling with each other. One of them had to be Nate…

_Just hang on, kid, I’m comin’._

He forced the little boat up to full speed, rocking in the wake of the trawler, searching for a way to get to him. Another echoing crack of the rifle made Sully wince. One of the figures hit the deck. Hard. The figures were obscured from view for a moment as Sully's boat crested a wave and he squeezed his eyes tight, dreading what he might see when he opened them again.  _Please, Nate, be okay..._

A screeching of metal split the air and for a second Sully’s brain mistook it for the sound of the primordial creatures from the island before he realised what had happened. The helicopter, perched precariously on the edge of the upper deck, was slipping sideways. It teetered there for a second before plummeting into the water, and a long wire snaked after it, accompanied by an ominous low grumbling noise and a terrified scream. Sully watched, wide eyed, as Navarro was pulled off the deck, his ankle tangled in the wire, followed swiftly by the statue, still wrapped in its netting. The pair of them plunged into the depths after the chopper and the impact sent spray high into the air, splashing down over Sully's boat. He watched the cursed abomination sink, along with the would-be warmonger, and soon there were only bubbles to show that they’d ever been there at all. 

The storm was behind now, with a sky full of bruised clouds up ahead. Sully could see Nate and Elena standing at the railing looking down at the dark water, holding onto each other as if they were barely able to stay upright.

He let the little engine chug on, exhaustion and unspeakable relief weighing him down. He was within hailing distance now but the couple hadn’t seemed to have seen him. They were both covered in scratches and scrapes, leaning close together, forehead to forehead, lost in each other’s eyes…

“You two got a funny idea of romantic,” Sully called up.

Nate's eyes rolled, pulling back from the almost-kiss with a jerk. 

“Sully!” the kid greeted him with a long-suffering smile. “You… wow, you look like hell.”

Sully shrugged unabashedly. “You should see the other guys. Got us a boat!”

Elena leaned on the railing and cast a disdainful look at Sully’s modest vessel. “Uhh, we already have a boat.”

“Yeah,” Nate said, “Big boat.”

Sully gave them a twisted grin. “I like this one better,” he said, pulling back the tarpaulin to uncover the pile of gold he’d accidentally stolen from Raja’s men.

“Borrowed it off a couple of pirates who were too dead to care,” he explained.

Nate’s face lit up and he did a little fist pumping dance of victory right there on the ship. “Sully, you beautiful son of a bitch!”

Sully laughed. The treasure was a bonus, but that was nothing compared to seeing the kid alive, in one piece, and smiling.

And then there was Elena. 

She folded Sully into a heartfelt hug the moment she stepped onto the boat, and he found himself speechless for a moment. She really was something else. Maybe the kid really  _did_ know how to choose 'em.

Nate was next, slapping Sully on both shoulders as he came aboard, betraying just a hint of what he wanted to say in the tightness of his lips. "Thanks, Sully," he murmured, pulling the old man in for a brief one-armed embrace. Sully nodded in return. The kid didn't do well with voicing his emotions - hell, neither did Sully - but they understood each other just fine. There would be time to hash it out later over drinks. Over  _a lot_ of drinks. 

He took the wheel as they peeled away from the trawler, heading for a friendly port, a much-needed shower, and some serious R 'n' R. Nate and Elena leaned over the back of the boat, watching the godforsaken island shrink into nothingness.

Sully glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder at the pair of them, as close as they could get without actually touching, their body language echoing one another subconsciously. 

"Sorry you didn't get your story," Nate said to her.

Elena gave a little shrug. "Oh... that's all right. There'll be other stories," she said, then nudged him with her elbow. "You still owe me one."

Nate raised his hands in appeasement. "I'm good for it," he protested, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his side. 

Sully turned back around with an affectionate smile to himself. 

_Looks like we've gained another partner in crime._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dudes. This chapter is sooooo long. But lots of action so hopefully it's quick to read. 
> 
> (Also, Papa Sully is a badassmotherfucker as we all know)
> 
> AND HOLY SHIT I'VE OFFICIALLY TIPPED OVER 50,000 WORDS OF THIS STORY OMFG WHAT EVEN IS MY LIFE? 
> 
> I know I promised you some unpacking of the drama between Nate and Sully but cool your boots, it's coming. I just needed to get the main story out the way first. And possibly go lie down in a dark room for a while. 
> 
> Comments and kudos welcome as always you wonderful sonsabitches.


	19. Not About The Money

Sully dropped the last bloody rag into the trash and sat back, easing out the knots in his shoulders with a grumbling sigh. He’d lost count of the times he’d sat opposite the kid in some generic hotel room, patching up scrapes and wounds after a job gone wrong. Too many times. And it never got any easier, no matter how much Nate tried to downplay the pain or cracked jokes about the messiness of Sully’s stitches. Seeing the kid’s blood made Sully’s stomach turn over every single time – it reminded him of just how close their close calls had become lately.

Nate inspected the bandage around his forearm with appreciation and flexed his hand experimentally. “Not a bad job, Sully.”

“Still think you outta get a tetanus shot for that scratch,” Sully said, frowning. One of those nightmare creatures from the island had left a long, deep gash across the kid’s arm and Sully could tell it was sore, despite Nate’s stoic nature.

Nate gave him a lopsided smile, shrugging his shirt back on. “You worried I’m gonna turn into one of those slippery naked guys?”

Sully rolled his eyes at the nickname but it didn’t diminish his concern. _Don’t even joke about it, kid._

“What would you do? Come after me with a shotgun?” Nate asked in amusement, slapping Sully on the shoulder and heaving himself to his feet. 

“Nah,” Sully yawned, “Reckon I’d keep you on a leash. Use you as a guard dog.”

Nate’s laugh was cut short by a sharp intake of breath as he struggled to bend down to fetch a couple of beers from the mini fridge. Sully’s frown returned.

_Kid’s covered in bruises. Probably a broken rib or two. Concussion’s par for the course. And God knows what else he’s hiding. Still, lucky he’s still standing at all…_

Nate passed him a beer and lowered himself back down to the bed with a stifled groan, his bandaged arm wrapped protectively around his side.

“Well. Here’s to saving the world,” he said, clinking his bottle against Sully’s, and they drank in silence for a moment.

Sully chewed on his lip, trying to find the right words to open up the conversation he’d had running through his head the whole journey back to the mainland. He could sense the kid had a few things on his mind, too, but neither of them were ever any good at this kind of stuff.

He cleared his throat self-consciously. “Thought you were a goner there for a while,” Sully said at last. “More than once, in fact.”

_Let me count the ways: crashing the plane, captured by Raja, lost in the catacombs, chased by those monsters, hanging from a helicopter, fighting Navarro on that ship…_

“Ahh, Sully… You know it takes more than a cursed Incan statue to get rid of me,” Nate replied flippantly, but his attempt at a brush-off lacked conviction and after a moment’s pause he glanced back up at his partner with a furrowed brow and a pained smile.

“Thought I’d lost you, too, you know,” Nate said quietly. “After Roman shot you…” He swallowed thickly and looked down, rolling the beer bottle between his palms, gathering the words up to speak again. 

“I didn’t wanna leave you, Sully, but there was no way to get back, and-”

A rush of affection hit Sully right in the throat, leaving a painful lump there. _Goddamnit, he doesn’t need any more guilt …_

“I know, kid, I know,” he said quickly, reaching out to pat Nate’s knee.

Nate nodded slowly, grateful for the gesture, but still looked sick to his stomach. “I didn’t wanna believe it. Couldn’t believe it. Not you, too...”

Sam’s name hovered, unspoken, in the air between them, and Sully watched a tortured grimace cross Nate’s face.

The kid took a deep breath, as if he was revving up for something big. “And then, when we saw you get on that helicopter with Roman and Navarro…”

He couldn’t meet Sully’s eyes but the implication was like a punch to the gut.

“You didn’t _really_ think I’d sell you out?” Sully asked incredulously, failing to hide the hurt in his voice.

Nate’s hesitation was a little too long.

Sully stared at him, a horrible coldness creeping across his heart. “You think I’d do that?”

He felt like his chest was being squeezed by a giant fist. _Does he even know what he means to me?_

Nate still didn’t reply and every second that passed just crushed Sully even more. “You think I’d choose money over you?”

The kid faltered, finally. “No, I mean… I didn’t know _what_ to think,” he said haltingly. 

Sully could feel his temper rising, quashing down the hurt. It was easier to be angry. Easier to lash out. “Goddamnnit, kid. All I’ve done for the last ten years is try to keep us afloat. Jesus, I even walked away from Rafe’s deal to keep you safe.”

Nate’s head snapped up at the mention of Rafe and his eyes flashed dangerously. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“It was never about the money!” Sully yelled, exasperated, and the kid’s faced crumpled in confusion. Sully sighed. He couldn’t say what he really meant: that the only reason he’d taken the loan from Roman was because he’d spent everything else on looking for Sam. The kid didn’t need that on his conscience too.

Sully took a breath and softened his voice, tipping his bottle towards the ring around Nate’s neck. “Greatness from small beginnings, remember?”

Nate pulled gently on the pendant, rolling the ring between his finger and thumb. He let out a scathing ‘huh’. “Yeah, well, look how that turned out for Drake.”

Sully knew how much it meant to the kid. How much he’d pinned on it – his family’s legacy – and how hard it must have been to find out it was all one big disappointment.

“Hey,” he said, “You got further than old Sir Francis, right? You finished what he couldn’t. You sunk that damn thing at the bottom of the ocean once and for all. I reckon he'd be pretty proud of his 'heir'.”

Nate cracked a faint smile at that, but it faded just as quickly, unable to let go of the crux of the argument. “You lied to me, Sully,” he said quietly. “You’re the only person I’ve ever really trusted – apart from…” He almost couldn’t say the name but he forced it out, “Apart from Sam.”

Sully swallowed hard, full of self-loathing. The kid’s eyes sought his out with an intensity that made him want to look away.

“You can’t do that to me again,” Nate said flatly.

“I won’t,” Sully promised, and he meant it from the bottom of his soul. “Nate... I'm sorry. I should’ve told you about Roman.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Nate said sternly, and suddenly it was as if their roles were reversed as the kid gave him a chiding look. “No more loan sharks, okay?”

Sully sealed the agreement with another clink of their bottles. “Amen.”

They drank in comfortable silence for a while. This whole ‘dealing with emotions’ thing was exhausting on them both, but at least they'd cleared the air. Sully had meant what he said – it wasn’t about the money – it had become more than that since the moment the kid first arrived on the scene. And Sully knew then, no matter what fool’s errand the kid chased next, he would follow Nate anywhere.

Just then, a knock at the door made them both look up and the kid’s face brightened a little at the sound of Elena’s voice.

“You boys decent in there?” she called through the door.

“Define ‘decent’,” Nate yelled back, and Sully snorted into his beer.

She opened the door anyway, rolling her eyes as she plucked Nate’s beer out of his hands and settled herself down on a spare chair.

She was fresh out of the shower, hair still damp, skin shiny pink, smelling of some fruity soap. The kid’s eyes seemed to gravitate towards her, even as he grumbled his way back over to the minibar to replace his stolen beer. She knew he was looking, too, smiling to herself as she tucked her legs up underneath her.

When he sat back down she wrinkled her nose disapprovingly. “Oh my god, you guys have been up here for an hour and you haven’t even washed yet? You still smell like a Spanish tomb.”

Nate held up his wounded arm with an equally-wounded puppydog expression. “Hey, I almost got eaten by four-hundred-year-old mutant spider-people. And Sully’s a terrible nurse.”

Sully gave another snort, glad to have the wise-cracking version of Nate back. “Next time you can stitch yourself up.”

Elena cast a look between them, a spark of eagerness in her eyes. “So what _is_ next? Another legendary treasure you just _happen_ to have the coordinates for?”

Nate laughed scathingly. “Why? You lookin’ for a scoop?”

She shrugged. “My producer’s pretty pissed about the camera. I’ve got to sweeten the pot somehow. So how about it? Seems to me like you could do with a third man – or woman – on your team.”

Nate raised an eyebrow, “Wait a minute, remind me again who got themselves kidnapped and tied up in the back of a helicopter?” 

Elena matched his gaze with cool ease, “Uh, the same person who busted you out of a jail cell and drove us all the way through the jungle.”

“Yeah, and straight off a cliff!”

Elena scoffed indignantly. “Hey, _you_ were the one who reversed us over the edge!”

Sully watched them with mild amusement. They were both sitting bolt upright, jabbing fingers at each other and risking detached retinas from all the eye rolling.

“Okay then,” Nate smirked, “Who nearly fell a hundred feet to her _death_ because she didn’t want to let go of a stupid video camera?”

“It would have made an _amazing_ show and you know it,” Elena pouted for a moment before a small smile crept over her lips once more. “Plus, you still owe me a story…”

Nate took a breath, about to launch into another assault, but Sully stepped in smoothly. “I think we need a break before we start lookin’ for trouble again,” he said diplomatically. “Spend some of this gold, huh?”

“Speaking of which,” Elena said, “I figure you boys owe me dinner, too.”

Nate shrugged nonchalantly, “I guess I could eat.”

Sully restrained a grin at the pair of them and feigned a yawn. He had no intention of being a third wheel at  _this_ particular party. “You kids go ahead. I’m gonna catch some Zs…”

A shy little smile passed between Nate and Elena at the prospect of an evening alone but they quickly masked it behind their continued bickering as they headed out of the hotel room together.

Sully shook his head and cracked open another beer.

_You sure do choose ‘em, kid._

Except this time, he meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick one to purge a little angst. Gawwwd Nathan, won't you let down your guard for just one second and realise how much your surrogate dad loves you?!
> 
> Next up: Nate spectacularly screws up his relationship with Elena - as per usual.


	20. Making A Difference

Nate, unsurprisingly, didn’t come back to his and Sully’s shared room that night. Or the next. Over the next week, Sully only saw the couple fleetingly - for meals, and to laze around on the beach, recuperating from their many scrapes and bruises - but mostly the pair were off in their own little world, developing their own little habits of familiarity. Nate’s arm would snake around her waist as they walked; Elena would reach out to touch his arm when he made her laugh; their eye contact would linger so long it was as if they’d forgotten anyone else was there.

Sully gave them space, marvelling at the effect Elena had on the kid. Nate was calmer when she was around. His usual frenetic urge to chase after the next job seemed to have stalled, temporarily, and there was an ease in his interactions with the reporter that Sully hadn’t seen in any of Nate's other – all too brief – girlfriends.

Of course, that didn’t mean it was all smooth sailing – the pair of them disagreed almost constantly, over every tiny thing, albeit with teasing smiles on their faces. It seemed to Sully that they thrived on their differences; testing one another’s limits, making it clear that neither of them would ever back down without good reason, and forging a kind of mutual respect for the one thing they had in common: bloody-mindedness.

Elena was good for the kid, Sully thought. She immediately saw past the cocky facade and made it her mission to discover the Nate behind all the bravado. But perhaps that was the problem. Elena asked a lot of questions – it was her job, after all – and Sully knew it was only a matter of time before she asked one too many and the kid shut down on her.

And so, Sully was entirely unsurprised when she cornered him one afternoon for an impromptu interrogation. Nate was busy bartering with the hotel manager to extend their stay for another few nights and she perched herself on a stool beside Sully at the bar, eyeing him sideways.

“So this is what you do, huh?” she said, playing with a little paper umbrella from a discarded drink. “Lounge about in hotels, waiting for the next lead?” she said. 

Sully laughed through his nose. “It’s a tough job but someone’s gotta do it.”

“Kinda like journalism, I guess,” she mused. “Travelling, tracking down clues, chasing stories…”

Sully made a cautiously affirmative noise, not entirely sure what she was getting at, but sure there was an incisive point coming.

“I mean, there are stories I’ve been working on for _years_ ,” she continued, stabbing the pointy end of the umbrella into the top of the bar. “After a while… You can get a little… obsessive about it, huh?”

Sully was starting to catch her drift but still said nothing. _Girl’s got the measure of that kid already._

She twirled the tiny umbrella between her fingers. “Nate said he’s been researching Drake since he was a kid – following in his mother’s footsteps. Said that was how you two met, stealing that ring...”

“Uh huh,” Sully replied, noncommittally. He was surprised Nate had opened up enough to talk about his mother and the less-than-noble way he'd acquired his 'heirloom', but the glaring absence of any mention of Sam felt like a black hole. He guessed Nate had stayed cagey about the more painful details, as he always did, and Sully wasn’t about to spill his secrets without the kid’s permission. 

Elena nodded, sensing his reticence, and they sat in silence for a moment.

“You know he tried to leave it behind?” she said, suddenly. “The ring. When he found Drake’s skeleton. I kinda… held onto it for him.”

Sully didn’t know that. He turned to stare at her in disbelief. The kid hadn’t mentioned it at all, and the damn thing was still hanging around his neck, so he never would have even thought to ask. Ten years they’d been together and he’d never seen the kid take it off, except to show his brother. A lot more must have happened in those catacombs than he was letting on. 

“That’s when I knew…” Elena continued carefully. “You guys make out like you’re a couple of conmen, just in it for the treasure, but you dropped everything to stop Roman and Navarro.”

Sully wondered if she’d overheard the argument from that first night at the hotel. _It was never about the money!_ he’d told the kid. But it hadn’t always been that way. After years of thieving and cheating and grave-robbing, it had taken a grubby little fifteen-year-old urchin to teach Sully that there was more to it than cold, hard cash. And she’d figured it out after just a couple of days.

He gave a little shrug. “Some things are more important than treasure.”

Elena smiled as if he’d somehow given the correct answer to a question he hadn’t known she was asking.

“So… How’d _you_ get into all of this?” she asked him.

Sully relaxed a little at the change of subject – he could happily talk about himself for hours if needs be, especially if it helped him evade more questions about the kid. He lit a fresh cigar and settled back in his chair: his default storytelling position.

“Well now… I did almost a decade in the Navy. Spirit of adventure and all that. Saw some crazy stuff out there – kinda got the exploring bug, I guess.”

“Sailor boy, huh?” Elena said, with a teasing smile. “Did you have a little hat?”

Sully shot her a mock serious look, “Hey, I looked _damn_ good in uniform, I’ll have you know.”

“I’ll bet,” she drawled. “So, did you work your way up the ladder? You’ve got the moustache of a sergeant major…”

He snorted. “Ahh well, that’s an army rank, and no – never made it past petty officer. I, uh, mighta got a little tangled up in the black market while in charge of the stores.”

Elena’s eyes widened. “Did you get demoted?”

“When they finally figured out how much I’d been shaving off the bottom? Dishonorable discharge,” he said, with a certain amount of misplaced pride, and she dissolved into laughter.

“But it earned me a couple of useful contacts to start heading out on my own adventures,” Sully added, “The rest is history.”

“And then Nate came along,” Elena said thoughtfully.

“Yup," Sully said, "Either the best or worst thing that ever happened to me, depending on your viewpoint."

Speak of the devil, the kid appeared across the bar, caught sight of them and headed offer with a wave.

Elena watched him approach with a shrewd little glint in her eye. “Hmm. Well. Jury’s still out.”

 

* * * 

 

A few days later they flew back over the Atlantic in the brand new (vintage) sea plane Sully had bought with his share of the El Dorado haul. It was a noisy old bird but they just didn’t make ‘em like they used to, and Raja’s goons had shot down his beloved _Hog Wild_. He’d earned this.

After a couple of weeks licking their wounds at the hotel, Elena’s producer had started to get impatient and she'd begrudgingly agreed to head back to the US to deal with the fallout. Nate volunteered Sully to fly her home, in a less than subtle attempt at eking out the few hours he had left to spend with her, but Sully didn’t complain. He enjoyed her company, too, and was in no rush to head off on a new job. The downtime had done them good, and, with the final nail hammered into Francis Drake’s coffin, a tiny part of Sully hoped that the kid would drop the legendary quests for a while.

He also held out a sliver of hope that Nate might actually make a go of it with the spunky little reporter – i.e. not completely screw up his chances within the very first month of the relationship – but, true to form, the kid managed to find a way.

Though, to be fair, Elena started it.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” she said, raising her voice over the growling engine noise. “About Navarro.”

Sully glanced over his shoulder, one questioning eyebrow raised. She and Nate sat opposite one another on the benches behind the cockpit, knees almost touching in the narrow space.

Elena leaned forward, hands gesturing widely as she spoke, in a way that reminded Sully of Nate when he was lost in a hypothesis. “Navarro had it all planned out. It was more than just a historical expedition; it was about power. He was going to use that thing as leverage…” She gave a little shudder. “Whatever that statue did to people… It could have caused a global epidemic. Or, in the hands of a warmonger… God, I wish I’d held onto my camera.”

Nate shook his head incredulously. “You’d be at the bottom of that ravine if you had.”

She gave a little laugh, “Yeah, right, I know, but _next time_ -”

“No, no,” Nate cut in. “No ‘next time’. We’ve been over this.”

And they had. Repeatedly. Half the conversations of the past few weeks had involved Elena pushing Nate for clues on what treasure he might be after next, and every time he’d point blank refused to even entertain the thought of bringing her along.

“But this is a whole new angle,” she insisted. “We saved the _world_ , Nate. And I’m betting Roman and Navarro aren’t the only ones going after artefacts that’ll give them some sort of political bargaining chip, some sort of power. There must be a whole criminal underbelly out there, hunting the same treasures you are…”

Nate shot her a scathing look. “Yeah, we mostly try to avoid them.”

Elena leaned even closer, eyes bright with enthusiasm. “But we could _expose_ them. Make it a whole investigative thing. My producer would go crazy for it. We could really make a difference, Nate.”

“ _We_?”

She shrugged casually, ignoring his terse tone. "Sure. I’ll handle the journalist stuff – I can get us press passes to places you can’t normally go, sweet-talk the right people… You two can handle the research and the actual, y’know, treasure stuff.”

Sully didn’t know whether to laugh or be concerned. When he glanced back at Nate, the kid was clearly leaning towards the latter, a frown furrowing his brow.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” Nate said. “It’s too dangerous, Elena.”

She stuck him with a defiant look. “That didn’t stop you getting me involved before.”

“That was different!”

“Oh, right, because you were just _using_ me to get the coffin, right?”

Nate faltered at the accusation. “I- Well, yeah, kinda.”

Sully prepared himself for an outraged response from Elena but she was too consumed with her pitch to dwell on past betrayals. She stared Nate out, instead. “You owe me. You know this business. You can help me get the jump on the next asshole who wants to take over the world-”

“So now you’re using _me_?” Nate laughed hollowly.

“Seems fair,” she snapped back, before reining in her frustration and trying a softer approach. “Look, Nate… You have the chance to do something good here. If we hadn’t stopped Navarro-”

“Elena, I’m not a damn hero!” Nate sat back, throwing his hands in the air.

There was a momentary silence. Sully didn’t dare intervene. He didn’t even know whose side he would choose.

“Well, what are you then?” Elena asked quietly. “Just a thief?”

“And so what if I am?” Nate replied, more than a little petulantly.

She rolled her eyes and turned towards the cockpit, “Sully-”

“Yeah, Sully,” Nate interrupted, “Tell her why it’s a stupid idea.”

Sully winced. _Goddamnit, why are you involving me in this?_

He chose his words carefully, keeping his eyes on the horizon. “Well. I think... it’s certainly… ambitious.”

Nate gloated. “AKA: ‘stupid’.”

“And Nate's right, it would be dangerous,” Sully continued slowly. He could feel her eyes boring into the back of his head.

The kid gave a little ‘ha’ of victory. “See?”

“She’s right too, though,” Sully added, before Nate let it go to his head. “This game has been getting dirtier and dirtier the last few years. It’s not about who’s the best any more – it’s about who’s got the money.”

_We learned that the hard way with Rafe. And then learned it double with Roman. Who's to say we'd survive a third bout?_

He risked a look behind him and now Elena was wearing the victorious smile. He shook his head.

“But… I'm sorry. It’s just not worth the risk,” Sully said, finally. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s not to stick your neck out. Too many people out there just waiting to take your head off.”

He knew it sounded selfish but he wasn’t doing it for him. He'd come way too close to losing Nate recently, and he’d made a promise to himself not to put the kid in any more unnecessary danger. No matter how much he might agree with Elena’s good intentions, they weren’t enough.

Elena stared at them both for a long moment before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. I’ll do it without you then.”

"Elena-" Nate began, but she'd already turned her back on him, climbing into the co-pilot's chair and staring pointedly out the window.

The kid huffed at the snub, crossing his arms and settling back for what Sully suspected was an entirely fake nap.

Sully rolled his eyes.

_God, they're like a pair of sulky children._

 

* * * 

 

The rest of the journey passed in terse silence, and once they landed, their goodbyes were predictably awkward. It was as if everything they'd been through on the island had been a strange dream. It happened that way, sometimes. Adrenaline and near-death experiences could forge a connection between people in an instant, but as soon as they were back to 'real life' the feeling faded like a brief summer romance.

"Sooo. I guess this is it," Elena said, almost shyly, holding out a hand for Sully to shake.

He dismissed the formality and kissed the back of her hand instead, just as he'd done the first time they'd met. She laughed at that, eyes twinkling, and leaned in for a proper hug.

"Thanks for the ride, Sully."

He gave her a little squeeze before letting her go. "Don't mention it, sweetheart. Just glad we all got back in one piece."

She nodded absently, glancing behind her at Nate, who was busying himself with unpacking their luggage from the back of the plane. The kid looked up when he felt her eyes on him and brought her bag over hesitantly, looking for all the world like an embarrassed teenager building up the courage to talk to his crush. Sully hid a smile behind his cigar.

"Well, Mr Drake," Elena said, taking hold of the strap of her holdall. Nate didn't let go. 

"Well, Miss Fisher" he replied.

The kid seemed to have forgotten he was still holding onto the bag and they stayed there, locked in each others' eyes for a moment before Elena gave the holdall a little tug. 

"Are you gonna let me have my bag or...?"

Nate jerked out of his reverie and dropped the handle, "Right, sure."

Elena tried hard not to smile, as if she had to remind herself she was still pissed at him.

Nate shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down at his feet like a guilty kid. "Look, I'm sorry," he mumbled, "For screwing up your show. I should never have got you involved."

She stared at him in mild surprise, clearly not expecting him to back down. "It's okay," she said quietly. "I'm kinda glad you did."

Nate didn't reply. He looked torn - as if he wanted to say more but didn't have the words. But he waited too long and the moment turned uncomfortable. Elena's smile fell in disappointment.

Sully frowned. This was the point where the kid should have agreed with her, said he was glad she'd got involved too, and figured out a way to make their shared stubbornness work, but he was bailing.

 _What the hell are you doing, kid?_  

Elena handled the implied rejection smoothly, squaring her shoulders and plastering on a professional smile. 

"Well," she said, "If you ever change your mind about working together again..." She dug in her pocket for a slip of paper and held it out to him.

Nate took it, folding it neatly inside his journal and slipping the diary into his back pocket.

"Until next time, then," she said, holding out her hand.

Nate stared at it for a moment before shaking it briefly. As if they were acquaintances. As if they hadn't saved one another's lives multiple times. As if they hadn't just spent the last few weeks shacked up together.

Whatever Elena was feeling, she hid it well, and headed across the tarmac to the terminal without a backward glance.

Nate watched her go with a pained expression. "You be careful," he called after her.

Elena turned and walked backwards for a few steps. "I always am," she smirked

 

* * * 

 

Back in New Orleans, at Carolina's place, Nate had been sitting in the corner of the bar nursing the same beer for over an hour. After Carolina's repeated nudging, Sully eventually went over, and found the kid staring at the piece of paper Elena had given him, turning it over and over in his fingers. It had a phone number scrawled across it, along with the motto inscribed inside Drake's ring:  _Sic Parvis Magna._

"So," Sully sighed as he took the seat opposite. "You gonna call her?"

Nate looked up sharply and crumpled the piece of paper into his fist. "What? No. Waaay too much trouble."

Sully nodded slowly. "Maybe you're right."

"C'mon," the kid said, attempting a roguish grin, "You really want to team up with her? 'Save the world'? You said yourself, it's a stupid idea."

"No...  _You_ said it was stupid. I said it was dangerous."

"Same thing," Nate muttered, dropping the balled-up paper onto the table. "She's reckless. She's impulsive. She doesn't listen, and she nearly got herself killed over that damn camera... I mean, a few weeks ago she had a gun to her head, and now she wants to go  _looking_ for another psychopath..."

"Sounds like someone else I know," Sully growled, giving the kid a pointed look.

Nate floundered at the accusation for a second, "Yeah, but... How long have we been doing this? We know how to look after ourselves."

Sully snorted - thinking of the various recent incidents that had resulted in them almost getting killed - but Nate ignored him, shaking his head. 

"If she'd died out there... I cant- I don't need that on my conscience," Nate said in an undertone.

And Sully understood. All too well. There was a familiar haunted look in the kid's eye. Leaving Sam behind... Thinking Sully was dead... Watching helplessly as Navarro dragged Elena onto that helicopter... Nate barely thought twice about putting himself in danger but when it came to someone he cared about -  _really_ cared about - he couldn’t go through that pain again. Which meant Elena was the real deal. And letting her go must have been even more painful than Sully had originally thought. 

He watched Nate pick at the label on his beer. The kid looked utterly miserable, and that old familiar guilt came back to rest in Sully's guts. It was his fault they lived such a hostile life. It was his fault the kid was incapable of maintaining a relationship for more than a week or two. It was his fault Sam was gone. If he'd just put his foot down and got them out of this business once and for all...

"So why not keep it all above board?" Sully suddenly. "Get yourself a job with her producer as a consultant or something? Get paid for what you're good at instead of scrambling around on a hunch. It doesn't have to be dangerous - not if you do it right."

Nate was staring at him with a look that was half horrified, half surprise. "Who are you and what the hell have you done with Victor 'goddamn' Sullivan?" 

"I’m just saying," Sully said tiredly. "I'm not getting any younger... And I'm sure as hell sick of stitching you up after another job gone wrong. Maybe you could do with a change."

_A normal life._

Nate's jaw tensed, and a mask of neutrality came slamming down over whatever emotions were lurking behind. "If you're tired of my company, just say so, Sullivan," he said flatly.

"Oh c'mon kid, it's not that-"

"No, no, you were bitching and moaning the whole time we were looking for El Dorado. Like you thought it was all a wild goose chase."

Sully leaned across the table, lowering his voice to an irritated growl, "I was worried about Roman, you idiot. And it  _was_ a wild goose chase. These things always are. Give me one time we've walked away from something like this with some  _actual_ treasure?"

"We get by," Nate snapped back. 

Sully took a long, calming breath. "How long do you wanna keep doing this, huh? Is it really worth what you're givin' up?" he said, nodding at the crumpled ball of paper between them. 

Nate glared at him for a moment before shoving his beer across the table and getting to his feet. "You're right," he said. "Maybe I do need a change. I'll see you around, Sully." 

And with that, he stalked out of the bar.

Sully sat back with a groaning sigh.  _A change of attitude would be nice_ , he thought, picking up the discarded slip of paper and smoothing it out carefully.

Maybe he'd hold onto this one, like Elena had held onto Nate's ring. Sometimes the stupid kid just didn't know what was good for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL THE ARGUING. 
> 
> What I love about Elena in UC1 is that she's even more foolhardy than Nate. She throws herself into things with total abandon - trusting a couple of conmen she barely knows, risking her life to get footage, and refusing to give up, even when Nate's had enough. Judging by where she ends up in UC2, in the middle of a frickin' warzone, chasing down a psychopath, she thrives on this stuff just as much as Nate does, but there's purpose there too. She really is trying to make a difference. And by UC3 she realises that Nate's motives are more about obsession - about trying to fix something that was broken long ago, no matter the cost. It's not about the money, sure, but that doesn't make it okay to tip the scales over to madness... 
> 
> ANYWHO. I like how their motives for pursuing/giving up on treasure keeps switching and changing. Nate doesn't mind heading into danger but he can't bear putting Elena at risk (especially after UC2). Elena respects and understands (and shares) Nate's need to seek out the truth but she will draw the line when things go beyond reason. Interested to see how all this builds up to their mutual agreement to give it all up when we get to UC4... (would love to hear your thoughts on that, actually)
> 
> ANYWHO x2. So obviously they break up between UC1 and UC2 (last year's model, y'all) so here's my take on how that happened and why. Elena shifts from 'travel/history documentary' to 'terrifyingly dangerous investigative journalism' within the space of a year and you CANNOT tell me it's not a direct knock-on effect of UC1. And Nate's fear of losing her is a throughline in UC2 and UC3... 
> 
> Sooo, what's next? Nate gets mixed up with Chloe and Flynn again, and Sully is notably absent until he comes to bail Nate out of a Turkish jail. Hence all the angst and falling out AND GODDAMNIT NATE WHY ARE YOU SUCH AN IDIOT?
> 
> Wow, this is a big note. Hope you enjoyed. Comments = give me life. x


	21. Moving On

It wasn’t like  the kid’s other break-ups. Usually, whenever he screwed up a relationship,  Nate  would bounce back pretty quick. Sure, he’d drown his sorrows for a while, but the moment he  caught the scent of a new treasure he’d put  his romantic woes  behind him  and throw himself headlong into  the next adrenaline rush.

This time it was different.  Elena was different.  After  the kid had  flounced off out of Carolina’s bar, Sully  knew better than to chase after him. He  gave  the kid  space, instead. Let  him stew in his misery for a few weeks. It was just how Nate dealt with things, after all. Whenever the kid was faced with an emotion he couldn’t (or didn’t want to) process, he’d get all snappy and distant, and eventually blow his top, but if you gave him time to work it over, he’d always come  crawling  back. 

Except,  it had  already  been two weeks and Sully was still waiting for the mumbled apology he usually received after a falling-out. 

“So. You really gonna try to out-sulk each other or you gonna call the boy for God’s sake?” Carolina asked him one afternoon, as Sully’s demeanour grew ever more grouchy.

“I am  _ not _ sulking,” he muttered, just quiet enough to avoid incurring Carolina’s raised eyebrow of shame. But he  called the kid anyway,  on the pretence of a potential job, and convinced himself it was his idea all along. He could be the bigger man. The kid would realise he was being an ass, say sorry, and come home. 

But it didn’t go that way. Nate turned him down almost immediately.

“I’m taking your advice,” the kid said curtly down the phone. “Taking some time out. I mean, what’s the point in risking life and limb for a pile of gold if you can’t enjoy it, right?” 

Sully ignored the sarcastic tone, just glad that he hadn’t rushed straight off into another mess of trouble.

“Well... Good,” he said hesitantly.  _Be the bigger_ _man_ , _Sully_.  “Take a break. You deserve it, kid.”

Nate gave a non-committal grunt and there was an awkward pause. “So, you gonna take it? The job I mean?”  the kid asked, eventually.

“On my own? Nah. It’s more of a two-man thing.”

“Oh. Sorry . Well. Next time, okay?”  Nate said, and sounded genuine enough. 

It was an apology of sorts. Sully sighed out the remainder of his resentment. He couldn’t stay angry at that stupid kid for long, anyway.  “Ahh don ’t worry about it,” he  said.  “Y’know, I might just take some time out myself. Still finding bruises from the last job...”

Nate laughed at that, and the sound was like a salve. 

“So where’re you holed up?” Sully asked. “You want some company?” 

Nate began to reply, but a  woman’s  voice  cut through the background.  “Is that Victor ‘goddamn’ Sullivan? How _is_ the old dog? ”

There was a muffled sound as Nate covered the mouthpiece but Sully recognised the voice all too well.  _Chloe Frazer. What the hell are you thinkin’ _,_ Nate?  _

After a brief scuffle and a loud groan from Nate, Chloe came on the line with a smile in her voice. “Victor! Long time no see. I hear you survived your little brush with Roman…” 

 _‘Little brush’? You mean getting myself shot and almost releasing a biological weapon on the world…? _Sully snorted at her audacity. “Yeah, thanks for the referral. Remind me never to ask you for a character reference.” 

“Look, I’m really sorry about how things turned out,” she said, a little more sensitively, “I really  _ am _ glad you’re okay. If I’d known…”

Sully shook his head,  “Hey now, it was my own damn fault. I know you didn’t mean for it to happen.”

”Still. Sounded like a close one...”

“Hey, didn’t you know?” Nate said, commandeering the phone once more, “Sullivan’s invincible. Been in this game for… how long now? Fifty years?” 

“Very funny,” Sully drawled, but the sound of Chloe’s laughter sent a little flare of  annoyance  through him. A few weeks ago it had been Elena laughing at Nate’s crappy jokes.

“ So... That was quick,” he said flatly, once he was sure Nate was back on the line.

“What?” The kid was only half listening, clearly distracted by whatever was going on in the background. 

Sully cleared his throat meaningfully. “Moving on a little fast, aren’t you?” 

Nate let out an aggravated sigh. “Oh, come on, Sully…” 

“Look, I’ve got nothing against Chloe but  what are you doin’, kid?”

“I told you. I’m taking a break-”

“I’m talking about  Elena, you idiot.”

“So am I!” Nate hissed. 

It was Sully’s turn to sigh. “You’re running away is what you’re doin’. You didn’t even give things a chance-” 

Nate lowered his voice and the sound came through muffled, as if he had his hand cupped around the receiver, trying not to be overheard:  “Look, she got the wrong idea, okay? That’s all there is to it.”

“The wrong idea?” Sully spluttered, “About what? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure that was you makin’ heart-eyes at her for two goddamn weeks…”

“We wanted different things,” Nate said slowly, through gritted teeth. 

Sully  let the remark settle for a moment, remembering the couple’s  argument in the back of the plane.  She  wanted to save the world. And Nate had got all het up about ‘not being a hero’. Like it was contagious or something.

"And what do you care, anyway?" the kid grouched, like a stroppy teen. "You were the one who dumped her at that dock."

Sully took a breath of patience and let it out again,  “I’m just sayin’, she was useful to have around. She was good for you.”

Another painful pause. “Yeah, well, sometimes things just don’t work out, I guess.”

_ Ain’t that the truth? _

Sully shook his head. He could have understood the need to take it slow, or to have doubts, or be wary of getting close to someone. But to give it up completely, and jump straight into bed with someone else…? Sometimes he wanted to shake the kid. 

Except, deep down, he  _ could  _ understand it. Hell, he’d done it before himself, and he saw the attraction. Chloe was the kind of woman who offered no expectations, no strings, no pressure. But very little trust, either, in Sully’s expert opinion. He liked her a lot, but she certainly wasn’t the best influence on Nate. The kid got reckless around her – like a foolish teenager constantly trying to impress the cool girl. With Elena, _Nate_  seemed to be the level-headed one.

“Look, Sully, I gotta go,” Nate said, with regret in his tone.  “I’ll call you soon, I promise.”

“Sure, sure,” Sully replied grudgingly, “Enjoy your ‘vacation’.” 

“Bye Victor!” Chloe called out in the background. There was a brief exchange that Sully couldn’t quite hear, cackling laughter, and then the dial tone. 

Sully tossed his phone down onto the bar, not entirely sure why he was so pissed off,  why he felt the need to stick his nose in the kid’s business, and why there was a tingling premonition of disaster on the horizon, but he couldn’t help but worry. He guessed it’s just what parents did, no matter how old their kids were.

 

* * *

 

His worry only deepened when Nate failed to check in over the next few weeks. He wasn’t answering his calls, either. It wasn’t exactly unusual – the kid’s organisational skills were scatty at best – but when he made a promise, he kept it, and he’d damn well promised to call.

Sully tried not to think the worst, but he kept having a recurring dream – familiar only because he’d imagined it so many times - of Sam falling; of reaching out over a rooftop only to watch him slip through his fingers… Sometimes it would be Nate dropping to his death. Or sometimes the kid would appear beside him afterwards, sobbing, asking him why he hadn’t saved Sam:  _ Why? Why did you let him go, Sully? _

He’d been staying at the bar so long that he’d inevitably ended up in Carolina’s bed, and she would tut when he woke from a panic-struck dream, sweating and swearing, sitting bolt upright with a fistful of blanket pulled up to his chest. 

“You're worried about that boy, aren’t you?” she said in a low voice, running her fingertips up and down his back as he struggled to calm his breathing.

Sully glanced sideways at her, eyebrows raised at her insight. 

Carolina shrugged. "You talk in your sleep, old man."

He grunted in response, shivering a little as her fingers traced an infinity symbol across his shoulder blades.

“You’re not yourself without him, you know that?" she said softly. "You’re… lost.”

_I'm an old mother hen, is what I am._

"I can't keep chasing him around. Kid's got his own life."

Carolina sighed and the stroking stopped. He was about to make a noise of complaint when she sat up beside him, took his hand and laced her fingers through his. “The problem with the whole ' _if you love ‘em, let ‘em go' thing_ ,” she said, “is that sometimes you just know they’re better  off  with you.”

"Are we still talking about Nate, here?" he asked, with a sad smile, thinking of all the times he'd up and left in the middle of the night; all the times he'd failed to deliver on a promise; all the times he'd said he was coming back... 

She laughed, squeezing his hand just a little too hard for comfort. "I guess you just have to trust they'll come back to you. But there's no point sitting around feeling sorry for yourself." She shot him a pointed look. "I never did." 

Sully rubbed his thumb across her palm and wondered why the hell she'd ever let him walk back into her life. "I know," he said softly.

Carolina gave a long yawn and leaned against his shoulder, her head fitting under the nook of his chin like a puzzle piece. "The trick is knowing when to let them go off and make their own mistakes, and when to haul their ass home."  

 

* * *

 

Sully took the hint. He knew exactly how bad things could get when he left Nate to his own devices. 

And so, the next  day he started making calls – every fence, every contact, every old flame in Nate’s address book. But every feeler came back empty.

He even tried  Cutter, in London, figuring that  maybe Nate had  finally  decided to follow up the trail on Marlowe, but Charlie hadn’t seen him either.

“Last I heard he was shacking up with some Australian bird,” Cutter said.

“Yeah,” Sully sighed, “Chloe. You know her?”

“Heard of her. Sounds way out of Nate’s league though.”

Sully chuckled. “You have no idea.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re not the only one looking for him,” Charlie added  carefully. “You heard of a guy called Harry Flynn?”

Sully’s spidey-senses prickled. He knew Flynn well enough. He was an old contact of Nate's - a cocky sonuvabitch that Sully had never seen eye to eye with. Harry wasn't exactly a team player who only seemed to be in it for his own gain.

“Yeah,” he growled, “What does he want with Nate?” 

Cutter sighed in a long-suffering way. “He’s got a lead on some ‘big-time’ job. Needs someone with half a brain to help him figure out the history stuff. He tried to get me on board but I know better than to get mixed up with that idiot.” 

Sully’s heart sank.  _ Yes, but does Nate?  _

After a dozen more dead ends, and still no word from the kid, he called the number on a screwed up piece of paper he kept in his wallet – just for emergencies.  

“Sully? Is that you?” 

He was relieved – and surprised – to hear genuine delight in Elena's voice. 

“How you doin’, kiddo?”

“I’m good. Really good. I’m – actually I’m about to get on a plane,” she said in a rush, and he could hear the noise of a crowd behind her. “I got the funding for my latest project. I’m shooting a documentary in-” 

But he didn’t quite catch the rest of her sentence as a loud airport tannoy announcement drowned her out. 

“But what’s up with you?” she said, once things had quietened down. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course, things are great,” he lied. “I, uh… just wondered if you’d heard from Nate recently is all.”

There was a brief pause, and Sully felt a lurch of guilt for the way the kid had ghosted her. But when she spoke again her voice was carefully care-free. “Nate? No, not since we got back to the states. Sorry Sully. Are you sure everything’s okay?” 

Sully faked a reassuring laugh, more for his own benefit than hers. “Ah, you know Nate. Probably dropped his phone while climbing up a cliff or something. Just thought I’d check. Lemme know if you hear from him, won’t you?” 

“Sure thing, Sully,” she said slowly, but he could tell she wasn’t convinced and her voice had taken on a familiar shrewd tone. “And hey, the offer still stands you know...”

“Huh?” 

“If you want in on my investigation. I could use a guy like you. And Nate – if you ever track him down,” she added.

There was something oddly catching about her enthusiasm, but gritty documentary exposés weren’t really his bag. He was more likely to be the one on the ‘wanted’ poster. He coughed awkwardly. “I’ll… uh… let you know.” 

Elena laughed. “Alright, well, take care of yourself, Sully.” 

“And you.”

“I, um… I hope you find him,” she said after a pause, her voice losing some of its surety. 

Sully let out a long whistling sigh. “Me too.” 

 

* * * 

 

“THREE GODDAMN MONTHS?” Sully’s grip tightened around the phone and he resisted the urge to throw it at the wall.

“Oh, come on, Victor. It’s not like it’s the first time he' s been arrested…” Chloe’s sardonic tone only made him more furious. 

“ And you didn’t think to tell me ‘til now?”

“It’s  complicated,” she said, and  at least  had the decency to sound a little sheepish.

“Of course it is,” Sully snapped, rolling his eyes. “Mostly because you don’t want to spend your own damn money bailing him out, right?” 

“I  tried, Sully. I really did. But… it’s a delicate situation. It needs to be handled _carefully._ And you’re the only one he'll listen to.”

He took the compliment begrudgingly, but he could tell she was hiding something. Well, of course she was. This was Chloe. 

He shook his head. The details didn’t matter.  Nate  had been rotting in a jail in Istanbul for three long months and – as per usual – it was up to Sully to haul his ass home. He'd already begun throwing clothes into a holdall and calculating flight times in his head.  

“Just… Tell me where to meet you.”

“Thank you, Sully." Chloe said, and the relief in her voice was palpable. "I owe you one.”

_ Yeah. You owe me one hell of an explanation.  _

 

* * * 

 

She told him everything – or, at least her carefully curated version of ‘everything’ – over the best coffee he’d ever had in a tiny backstreet Turkish cafe. All about Flynn and his magic lamp. About Marco Polo’s lost fleet. About some 'nutcase' client they'd planned on screwing over. About the ill-fated museum job and Flynn’s predictable double-crossing act. About how she’d only known about it afterwards, when Nate never made the rendezvous. (Sully had yet to make up his mind whether he believed that part or not.) And how the plot thickened: with Flynn under the thumb of some psychopathic war criminal, and Chloe's plan to get to the treasure before them – with Nate and Sully’s help, of course. 

_ What could possibly go wrong? _

Still, perhaps it was something Elena said, after the whole El Dorado debacle – about making a difference; about taking down the bad guys. Or perhaps it was a protective impulse making him want to hulk-smash anyone who messed with his boy. Or perhaps he just wanted an excuse to go off on another adventure with the kid. Something about the whole situation had Sully fired up, anyway. And Chloe genuinely seemed desperate for his help, convinced that the only way Nate was going to listen to reason and not charge headlong into some revenge mission was for Sully to take the helm. Sully wasn't entirely sure she was right about that - Nate seemed to be ignoring his advice more often than ever these days - but he appreciated the sentiment.

Regardless, their first task was to bail Nate out, which took the remainder of their El Dorado haul and some carefully-phrased negotiation with the  Turkish prison authorities. Although, to be honest, they didn’t seem all that sorry to see the back of the kid. 

“That one, he never shuts up,” one of the guards commented as he led Sully and Chloe  down the corridor.  “Always with the smart mouth.” 

“That’s him,” Sully muttered, rolling his eyes at Chloe's wide grin. 

When they reached the end of the hall, the guard nodded to a squalid cell around the corner. 

Sully put a hand on Chloe's arm as she moved to follow him. "Why don't you stay here- at last until I've had a chance to talk some sense into him," he said, unsure how the kid might react to seeing her after three months stewing in a cell. She didn't argue, nodding sagely and stepping back out of sight.

Sully took a deep breath and turned the corner, a smile flickering at the corners of his lips when he heard the sound of the kid's voice. Talking to himself. And... making shadow puppets with his hands. 

Sully stepped into the beam of sunshine carving through the dusty air and Nate let out an irritated grunt but didn't look around. "Hey, hey, hey - jackass, you're ruining the show, here."

"Ah, what a shame," Sully replied, and Nate all but leapt up from his rickety cot, a look of sheer disbelief and joy on his filthy face. 

"Sully!"

"I really can't leave you alone for a minute."

The kid was at the door in moments, "Oh man, am I glad to see you."

Sully nodded at him, as always, his relief at seeing Nate in one piece overriding any resentment or anger that he‘d been holding onto. "How you doin', kid?" he asked, as the guard unlocked the cell.

Nate threw his hands up sarcastically, "I'm doin' just great."

Sully thanked the guard and stepped into the dirty cell, making an appraisal of the kid's general well-being (pretty decent, considering) and state of mind (hanging by a thread, judging by the hand-puppets). 

He put on his serious face. "I had to grease a few palms. Did go through the rest of your money. And a good chunk of my own. But hey..."

His sentence was cut off by a great thudding bear hug from Nate. 

"Jesus, you stink," Sully said, holding him at arm's length and screwing up his nose.

Nate laughed, "Yeah, not as half as bad as that cigar. Hey, how'd you find me?"

"Well," Sully began, taking a deep breath to prepare for the inevitable outburst, "a friend of yours asked for my help..."

Chloe took her cue and emerged from around the corner, leaning casually against the doorway. "Hello, Nate."

The kid backed away, "Oh, no. No..."

"Now wait a second," Sully cut in, but the kid was on a roll.

"Sully, kick her out and shut the door. We're safer in here," Nate quipped, pointing a judgemental finger at her. 

The phrase:  _Told ya so_ , went ringing through Sully's head, but he kept it unspoken. He might've been right about not getting involved with Chloe but he'd seen enough genuine remorse from her over the past few days to know that she wasn't the enemy. Plus, they needed her if they were going to get ahead of Flynn. 

"Just wait a goddamn minute," he barked at the kid, "Hear her out."

"Thank you, Victor." Chloe gave him a grateful nod as she passed him by, approaching Nate with arms up in placation. But the kid ignored her, turning his frustrations on Sully instead. 

"Hey, no offence, Sully, but you're not exactly the best judge of character. Especially when it comes to women.”

Sully could have floored him.  _Do you even hear the words comin' out of your mouth, kid?!_

He bit his tongue. The kid had reason to distrust her. And he had no stomach for an argument right now. He took a breath.  "Fair enough. All the same..."

"Dear God!" Chloe exclaimed, pacing around the cell and covering her nose with the back of her hand. 

"Oh no, it's not that bad," Nate said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "Look, I have my own bucket!" Chloe gave an unimpressed groan and the kid continued to grumble. "Last cell I was in, eight of us had to share..."

Chloe tried to ignore his ranting and talk some sense into him, “Listen... Nate-"

"Y'know something," he snapped, returning to his spot on the bed, "I really appreciate you dropping by, but if you and Flynn hadn't screwed me over in the first place-"

"Now, wait a minute-"

"-I wouldn't've been rotting in this shithole for the last three months."

"Listen, Nate-"

"So excuse me if I'm not, y'know, leaping into your arms." 

It was a grand tantrum. The kid finished his tirade with a petulant crossing of his arms and Sully hid his amusement behind his cigar. 

"I had nothing to do with it," Chloe said, finally getting a word in edgeways.

"Right." Nate snapped back, fixing his stare at the opposite wall, refusing to look at her.

A long silence fell between the two of them and Chloe let her arms drop to her sides in frustration.

"I told you, he's not going to listen to me," she said to Sully, heading back out of the cell. 

Sully shook his head at the pair of them.  _Time to haul ass._

"Screw this. Nate, _they found the ships._ " 

That was another good thing about Chloe. She paid attention. She'd figured out the secret of Marco Polo's fleet just as quick as Nate had. She'd been gathering intel on Flynn and his boss Lazarevic since the beginning. And she was the only one who could get in on the inside. No matter how little Nate trusted her right now, he needed her help. And a part of Sully was grateful that she'd thought to call him at all. She could well have left Nate in that stinking cell forever. Wherever her morals might lie, she wasn't a backstabber. That has to be worth something.

And the lost fleet of Marco Polo was exactly the sort of treasure hunt that Nate couldn't resist. At the mention of the ships, the kid sat bolt upright. "They found them? In Borneo?"

"Yep.”

"And the Cintamani Stone?"

"How do you know about that?" Chloe cut in. 

"Do you really think Flynn could have figured that out on his own?" Nate shot back. 

 _There's my boy._ Sully chuckled. It was good to have the cocky little shit back, as much of a pain in the ass as he was.

 _"_ All right, fair enough," Chloe admitted. "No, they haven't found it."

Sully could almost see the cogs whirring in the kid's brain. "That means there's still time..." He pointed a finger right into Chloe's face. "You're gonna get us into that dig site. We're gonna snatch that treasure right out from under them."

Chloe nodded slowly. "They'll never see it coming." 

"Yeah, well, payback's a bitch," Nate snarled, striding out of the cell as if he owned the goddamn prison. 

Sully exchanged a wary look with Chloe before following after the kid.  _Looks like we're goin' to Borneo..._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me AO3 for I have sinned. It has been SIX MONTHS (holy fuck) since my last update. But I haven’t forgotten about this fic and my frankly ridiculous goal to push it all the way to the end of UC4... 
> 
> We’re just tipping over into UC2 and the _hella_ complex relationships between Chloe, Nate, Sully and Elena. Not sure what I've got myself into here, but I’d love to get back into a regular update schedule, so let's call it my resolution for 2019... Hope you enjoy.
> 
> P.S. Do I get extra brownie points for finally giving in to the Sully/Carolina slow burn?


	22. All That Matters

Out of jail, cleaned up, and with a plan in hand, the kid was back to his pinpoint-focused self, and had spent the plane ride over obsessing over every scrap of knowledge he’d ever found on the Shambhala.

Chloe had gone on ahead to play double agent and infiltrate Lasarevic’s outfit, and Sully was grateful it was just the two of them for a while, safe within the familiar hum of the plane’s engine – even if Nate wouldn’t shut up about Marco Polo. 

“It’s good to have you back,” Sully commented as they flew over the seemingly endless Indian ocean. 

The kid raised his nose from his books and flashed Sully a brief smile. “It’s good to _be_ back. Appreciate the jailbreak, Sully. I really do.”

“Three months, though…” Sully mused. “And they didn’t give you a single phone call?”

Nate’s face fell. “Well... I mean. They did, but… I…”

Sully waved a dismissive hand, “Oh, don’t get all twisted up, I know you called Chloe. She told me.”

“I just… I needed to know if she was in on it,” the kid said in a leaden voice.

“And?” Sully risked a look sideways and already knew the answer to his question.

Nate shrugged. “She never picked up the phone.”

“Huh. Sounds familiar,” Sully grumbled with a sly smile. _What’s it like to have a taste of your own medicine, eh, kid?_

“You really think we can trust her?” Nate asked.

Sully didn’t answer for a long moment. He really _did_ want to trust Chloe – for the kid’s sake – and hell, because it was damn hard to dislike the girl. She was funny, capable, and just as charming as the kid. Plus, she’d dropped some of her usual bravado when he’d turned up in Istanbul - a guilty conscience she couldn’t hide, perhaps – and there was a good heart under all that smirking riposte, he was sure of it.

But still. She reminded him a little too much of Sam, sometimes – a little too closed off, a little too cocksure, a little too interested in chasing after the glory rather than working as a team. She reminded Sully of himself, too. Or, at least a version of Sully from the past, before he acquired his surrogate sons. Only in it for the money; ready to cut and run the minute things turned hinky; always available to the highest bidder… He wasn't proud of the man he used to be. Not since Nate had shown him there was more to this line of work than the treasure. Instead of 'every man for himself' it had become ‘us against the world’, and even sometimes ‘us _saving_ the world’, which felt… kinda good. Even if the kid refused to admit that he was born to be the hero. Maybe that's why he'd shied away from Elena's proposal. Maybe her line of thought was a just little too on the nose. But Sully would take Elena's good intentions any day of the week if it was a choice between that or following Chloe’s example and turning into the jaded asshole that Sully used to be...

Nate was still waiting for his response and Sully made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat. Did he trust Chloe? The short answer was ‘yes’. Conditionally, at least.

“Well,” he said at last, “She seemed real upset you didn’t believe her. She might not show it but she cares what you think of her.”

That much was true. She might not believe in attaching strings but she clearly had feelings for the kid.

Nate nodded thoughtfully but didn’t reply.

“And she’d have to play an impressive triple bluff if she wants to screw us over after all of this,” Sully reasoned. “Plus, I figure she’s the type to always back the winning horse… Which just so happens to be us.”

The kid gave a little laugh at that. “Damn right it is. Flynn couldn’t pour water out of a boot with instructions on the heel...”

Sully chuckled. He couldn’t remember if Nate had picked up that phrase from him or Sam, but it made a warm glow spread through his chest.

Nate flipped through his notes once more and gazed out the window at the ocean far below with a childlike look on his face. “Shambhala… Can you believe it, Sully? It’ll make El Dorado look like a lawn ornament…”

“Yeah,” Sully said. “It’s a real doozy.”

He tried to match the kid’s enthusiasm but he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his guts. Everything about this job had already gone wrong, and if past experience was anything to go by, it would only get worse. But he figured nothing was gonna stop the kid from going after Flynn now he had a taste for the treasure, so he might as well stick around and keep an eye on him…

 

* * *

 

That is, if he didn’t die of heat exhaustion in the swamp, first.

Borneo. 86 degrees in the shade. Another goddamn _jungle_.

Sully followed the kid through the undergrowth, regretting every single one of his life decisions. “Jesus, I’m sweatin’ like a hooker in church.”

Nate barely glanced behind him. “You brought a hooker to church?”

“Yeah, why not?” Sully panted. He was out of breath. He was out of _shape._ And hot damn he was getting old.

It didn’t help that Nate kept up a relentless pace, pushing through the trees like a demon.

They forged onward, clambering over fallen tree trunks and wading through boggy water and getting whacked in the face by the occasional branch. Sully stopped to swipe mud out of his eyes.

“Hey, you wanna slow down a little, kid?”

Nate didn’t even bother to look around this time. “Keep up, old man. Chloe’s waiting for us.”

“Hey. Less of the ‘old’,” Sully grouched, but picked up his pace, if only to keep from being left behind. “And Chloe can take care of herself,” he added, sensing a growing tension in the kid the closer they got to the rendezvous.

Nate finally paused, hunkering down behind a rock to catch his breath. “That’s not what I’m afraid of.”

Sully crouched beside him, grateful for the rest. “Then what?”

The kid busied himself with checking his gun, frown lines deep with jungle grime. “The less time she has to spend with Flynn, the better,” he muttered.

“Wait a minute. Are you _jealous_?!” Sully said, one part incredulous, two parts entertained.

Nate shot him a warning look and adjusted his holster, feigning indifference. “Hey, look, she can do whatever she wants. Or _whoever_ she wants. I’m just sayin’, I don’t like the idea of her being around that backstabbing son of a bitch for too long.”

Sully looked sideways at the kid. “Stop me if I’m wrong, but _she_ wasn’t the one who ended up in a Turkish jail…”

Nate grunted in response and pushed himself back up to his feet, heading onward down the trail. Sully sighed and followed after. _So much for a rest._

And Chloe wasn’t the one Sully was worried about. The way Flynn had orchestrated the museum job, setting Nate up for a fall, made Sully’s insides writhe with anger. It reminded him a little too much of the way Rafe had used and discarded the Drake brothers like their lives were worthless. _And look how that turned out._ Sully certainly wasn’t about to let that happen again. Not for some cocky cockney punk.

When he caught up with the kid, Nate made a hushing motion and pulled Sully down behind some crates at the end of a wooden walkway. They’d reached the first campsite, and the sound of voices drifted through the muggy air. A handful of hired mercenaries wandered along the network of jetties, heavily armoured and armed to the gills. A knot of anxiety settled in Sully’s guts as Nate quietly and professionally checked his own firearms. Sully had no doubts about the kid’s capability but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel sick every time they got into a fight.

Nate tapped his shoulder and pointed to a tiny flashing light beneath one of the structures. Sully nodded an affirmative and steeled himself – they had a job to do, after all. Chloe had placed charges around the camp and it was up to Nate and Sully to set them, an explosive distraction that would give Nate a brief window of time to get a look at Lazarevic’s files.

“Alright,” Nate breathed, eyeing up a merc who had foolishly turned his back on them, “Here goes…”

The first part went about as well as Sully had predicted. For all Nate’s stealthy intentions it wasn’t long before he was spotted and then all hell broke loose. It was over in minutes – a scrappy battle knee-deep in swamp water – and by the time it was over there was no one left in the camp to tell tales about the C4 charges blinking away innocently, waiting to blow…

Nate slapped a hand down hard on Sully’s shoulder as they set the final charge. “See? Piece of cake,” he panted, a roguish grin on his grubby face. Sully shot him an unimpressed side-eye. They were already covered in bruises, and Nate had narrowly missed taking a bullet – or twelve. The kid was fast, sure, but his luck couldn’t hold out forever.

Still, Sully couldn’t help but enjoy these moments, in the aftermath, adrenaline leeching out of their pores. The two of them had always worked well together, though Sully had to admit that he left the bulk of the heavy lifting to the kid these days. He wasn’t as fast or as agile as he used to be, and there were times – like now, for instance – when he didn’t wonder if it was time to give all this shit up.

The kid, however, seemed to thrive on the action. He was already heading off down the trail, creeping up towards a pair of mercs who stood in a waterlogged clearing below, arguing over a broken pump.

“Look,” Nate said, “They’re not armed.”

 _Finally, something in our favour. Let's get this over with._ “There’s not that many," Sully mused, "What are we waiting for? We can take ‘em.”

Nate grimaced, “I dunno Sully, maybe-”

Whatever sixth sense the kid had, he was right. A fourth merc appeared out of the shadows, launching a flying kick square at Sully’s face.

Sully went down hard, half-sinking into the tepid mud while his vision spun circles and his hearing narrowed to a tinny buzz. Nate threw himself at the merc with a roar of anger and the pair of them toppled over the ledge, locked in a death grapple. 

Sully clawed at the ground, trying to force his senses back into action, berating himself for walking right into the ambush, cursing himself for not sensing the same danger that Nate had. _Maybe you really are getting too old for this shit._

By the time he shook off the blow, Nate had taken on three of the mercs in a bare-knuckle fight and was breathing hard, hands braced against his knees, a smear of blood across his forehead.

“I could’ve used some help down here,” he griped, as Sully made his way over to another ledge where a rope was conveniently tied.

Sully waved him off, his head still thudding, his heart beating double-time at the near miss, trying to hide how shaken he really was. “Hey, you were doing fine...”

A fist came out of nowhere but this time Sully’s reactions were heightened by adrenaline, and he caught the merc by the arm, using the momentum to throw him over the ledge.

“Here’s another one for ya!” he called to the kid, as the merc landed on his back in the water.

“Sully!” Nate yelled, but dutifully laid the soldier out with a swift one-two-uppercut.

When all was quiet, Sully kicked the rope down to Nate, a little harder than he meant to. “Enough of this frivolity, kid,” he grumbled, “C’mon, we got work to do.”

“What does frivolity mean?” the kid murmured, as if he hadn’t spent most of his formative years inside of a book.

Sully didn’t wait for the kid to follow. He didn’t feel frivolous. There was an anger building inside him for some reason. Angry at himself for not being able to protect himself and putting the kid in danger. Angry at Nate for making it impossible to say no to these stupid, hell-bent expeditions. Angry at Flynn for screwing the kid over. Angry at Chloe for twisting up Nate’s feelings. Angry at Sam for not being here – for giving Nate a reason not to give a shit about his own damn safety…

They’d been through so much and for what? What did they have to show for it except scars and bad dreams? What the hell happened to a good old-fashioned heist? And when did the stakes suddenly get so high? No treasure, not even a giant sapphire, was worth the kid’s life.

But there was nothing to be done - they'd come too far to turn around now. All Sully could do was watch the kid's back and hope the whole thing was over soon. 

 

* * *

 

As they turned a corner, the base camp finally came into view. They crouched behind a log at a safe distance, taking turns to peer through binoculars. Anticipation tingled through Sully's veins. This was it. Either it went off without a hitch or it all went wrong. There was never anything in between. 

Chloe was there, as promised, looking bored as hell as she leaned against the wooden railing of a hut, overseeing a battalion of mercs who were busy unpacking equipment across a network of platforms. Behind her was a desk covered in paperwork – and there, arguing with Flynn, was Lazarevic himself. The guy was a giant - bald-headed, scarred, and looking like he could bench press a freaking car.

Sully felt Nate tense beside him and placed a restraining hand on the kid’s arm. 

_No risky moves, kid. Let’s be clever about this._

Sully’s eyes narrowed. So this was the ‘nutcase’ client hell bent on tracking down Shambhala. Sully had known his fair share of power-hungry assholes, and while he never judged a book by its cover, this guy was not exactly giving off positive vibes. His suspicions were proved correct a few moments later when an unfortunate merc was given a short, sharp trial for stealing from the dig site. Lazarevic didn’t even question the guy. Instead, he buried his knife in the man’s chest and tossed the still-convulsing body into the swamp.

“I’m surrounded by traitors and fools!” the general roared.

 _Oh buddy, if only you knew_ , Sully thought with a grim smile.

“Whaddaya say we _really_ ruin this guy’s day?” he said, holding up the detonator remote.

Nate lowered his binoculars and gave him a nod. “Do it.”

Sully pressed the button.

There was a long pause before a shockwave ripped through the jungle and the boom of explosions reverberated into the sky, followed by spectacular plumes of black smoke.

“Spread out! Search the perimeter!” yelled Lazarevic, and the camp sprang into action, men running towards the disaster, spurred on by Lazarevic’s incensed shouts. Flynn and Chloe went, too, though Sully could have sworn she cast a look in their direction before she disappeared out of sight.

“All right,” Sully said, giving Nate’s shoulder a gentle shove, “It’s all yours, kid. I’ll cover you from here.”

Another nod, and the kid was gone, vaulting over the ledge and dropping down into the water. Sully wiped his sweating palms on his pants and crept sideways to find a better position, almost tripping over a cache of weaponry stacked against some rocks.

“Hah, some fool left a sniper rifle up here…” he said to himself, and sent a quick prayer of thanks to the god of thieves and conmen. They could do with all the help they could get.  

He lay in the mud, rifle propped against his shoulder, and calmed his breathing, focusing his vision down the scope and letting everything else fade away. All that mattered right now was keeping the kid alive. That’s all that ever really mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Sully is absent for the majority of UC2 so I'm making these short sections last if I can. I never understood the narrative reason for him to duck out after they find the key/dagger (aside from not wanting too many secondary characters running around) so I'm trying to build up some kind of motivation in these chapters. Plus there are a whole bunch of seeds to be sowed for the "I'm getting too old for this shit" and "Nate's destructive obsession" story arcs in UC3... 
> 
> Can't promise the next update will be so swift. I'm off for Christmas holidays so I'm mainly just sitting around in my pyjamas, eating cheese, and writing my arse off. BLISS. So a great big Happy New Year to you all if I don't update before then. x


	23. The Next Bad Decision

_Lead the target… Breathe... Steady…_

Sully watched as the kid made his way through the camp, sneaking behind crates and trees, and taking out the few remaining mercs as quickly and quietly as possible. Sully’s finger hovered over the trigger, making tiny adjustments to his aim as he followed Nate’s progress, ready to fire on anyone who came too close, but the kid made it to the wooden shelter undetected.

Through the scope, Sully saw Nate approach the desk at the back of the cabin, his hands skimming over the paperwork, his face a frown of disbelief.

“Man, this Lazarevic guy isn’t screwing around, Sully,” the kid said into his radio, “You should see all this stuff. He’s got files on every expedition to find Shambhala, all the way back to the 1600s…”

 _Don’t get distracted, kid._ Sully had one eye on Nate, one on the camp. The explosion was only going to buy them a short window of time to grab the intel, and they needed to get out of there before Lazarevic and his men got back.

“How about Marco Polo’s journals?” he said, trying to keep the kid on target.

Nate let out a breathy laugh as he picked up a stack of papers and leafed through them, eyes sparkling. “Here they are…” 

As much as Sully loved to see the kid lost in his work, this was not the time or the place. He tutted down the radio. “Just hurry it up, you haven’t got much time.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

Nate wasn’t even aware of his surroundings any more. He was pacing the cabin, lost in his reading: “ _The worthy pilgrim is granted a golden passport… to conquer obstacles on his journey to Shambhala…_ Huh _._ ”

“That supposed to mean something?” Sully muttered. The wet mud was starting to seep through his clothes, the sniper rifle was still jammed into his shoulder and his trigger finger was getting itchy.

Nate stopped pacing, suddenly. “Wait a minute… Damn. Sully, I don’t think the Cintamani Stone is here.”

“What?!”

“Listen to this: _I would have sooner endured the wrath of Kublai Khan himself than remove the Cintamani Stone from that sacred shrine_.” Nate let the papers drop back to the desk in frustration. “Marco Polo never had the Stone.”

Sully let out a groan of irritation. Another _goddamn wild goose chase._ “Well if the Stone’s not here, what the hell is Lazarevic looking for?” he grumbled.

The kid paused for a moment before approaching the maps pinned to the wall behind the desk, one hand reaching out to trace the red lines marked across the landscape. “Shambhala…”

Sully frowned in confusion. “Here in Borneo? He’s a little wide of the mark, don’t you think?”

But Nate’s excited tone was back once more, his words getting faster and faster as his brain ticked over with fresh plans. “He must be trying to pick up Marco Polo’s trail, back to Shambhala.”

“Why?”

“Because the Stone is still there!”

_Aaaand here we go…_

Sully could barely get another word in as Nate switched channels and called for Chloe to meet them at the mountain – the only logical place they might find the remains of Marco Polo’s party and the next clue.

Sully was about to cut in – suggest they take a moment to consider the foolishness of going up against Lazarevic’s army in such close quarters – but Nate was clearly in one of his unstoppable moods. He could practically see the electricity bouncing off the kid.

Even worse - shouts in the distance signaled the arrival of unwanted company. Sully swung his aim around to see a handful of mercs appear from the treeline to his right.

“Nate, you gotta get out of there,” Sully barked down the radio.

The kid had his back to him, busy stuffing his pockets with notes and files from the desk. “You’re gonna have to give me a minute, Sully.”

“You don’t have a minute!” Sully yelled as the first shot rang out, hitting the map inches from Nate’s head. The kid ducked behind the wall, swearing profusely, and there was no more time to waste.

“Stay down kid, I’ve got you covered!”

Three mercs were headed towards Nate’s position, closing in from all sides. Sully settled the rifle on his shoulder and let the noise melt away as he found his focus once more…

_Lead the target. Breathe. And hold it..._

He squeezed the trigger and the middle soldier dropped like a stone. The other two looked around in surprise, unable to see where the shot had come from. Nate took the opportunity to pop his head up and a grenade came looping out of the cabin, bouncing to a stop right at the mercs’ feet.

The explosion was the first of many more, filling the clearing with lung-piercing smoke and making it difficult to keep track of Nate’s darting figure as he rolled and leapt from cover to cover. Sully was as tense as a drum, picking off shots as efficiently as possible, not wanting to waste a single bullet.

 _Don’t think about it. Just shoot. Follow up on the kick…_ The moment he fired, Sully was already tracing the next target, reloading in one smooth action, vision narrowed to a point.

It felt endless. And helpless, to be this far away from the kid. He yelled updates down the radio whenever he was able to pause, but there was a seemingly never-ending stream of armoured hired thugs, all gunning for Nate’s blood.

The kid was a decent shot, at least. He’d never had any formal training beyond Sully’s attempts at passing on his own military knowledge, and the numerous occasions that called for a firefight in their line of work, but he got the job done.

A haunted memory came swimming back to him as he watched Nate grimace at the recoil of his stolen AK-47.

_“You put a gun in his hands…” Sam, eyes wild with rage, slamming Sully against the wall._

Sully peeled off another shot, nailing a merc who was trying to flank Nate, unawares.

_“He’s fifteen years old and you put a gun in his hands?”_

Sully regretted a lot of things but he stood by this one. He knew there was no point bringing anything else to a gun fight. And the life they chose – the life _Nate_ had chosen – meant they needed to be able to protect themselves when the time came. Sully needed to protect him. By any means necessary.

He liked to think Sam would have understood if he was here now.

And he wished more than ever that Nate’s brother was still with them: another pair of eyes, another pair of hands. Another gun. There were too many of Lazarevic’s men. They must have sent in reinforcements. From all angles, black-clad soldiers advanced on Nate and pinned Sully down with gunfire. He ducked beneath a flurry of bullets and cursed as his rifle jammed.

“They’re closing in on me…” he barked down the radio, but there was no reply from Nate. Sully’s eyes darted around the clearing, desperate for a glimpse of the kid, but all he saw was enemies.

_Too many. We’re not gonna make it._

He yanked on the reloading pin in vain, shots and shouts getting closer and closer. He'd been here too many times before. Not least a few months before on their search for El Dorado, outnumbered in a stinking cave filled with mutant horrors crawling out of the walls, desperately trying to keep Nate alive with nothing more than a shotgun and some damn good luck.

_And when's that luck gonna run out?_

An enemy figure appeared from behind him, and another to his right, but before he had time to raise his pistol the merc looming over him jerked backwards, a bullet between his eyes. Sully launched himself at the one to his right, shoving a shoulder into the man's middle and sending him screaming over the ledge. Breathing hard, Sully looked down to see the kid snap off a quick salute before ducking back behind cover.

_Thanks, kid._

He let out a shaky breath and finally managed to unjam the rifle, resuming his sniping position on the ledge. For a moment he almost dared to think they were starting to push the odds in their favour when a deafening clatter pressed him flat to the ground, hands cradled around his head. Above and to the right of him, a gun turret flashed and thundered from atop a wooden tower. Bullets raked the ground, slicing across the jetties towards a lone figure jumping from platform to platform.

Sully snatched up the radio. “Kid, you gotta take out the tower!”

“I got you, Sully,” came the reply, and the sound of Nate’s voice seemed to give Sully renewed strength. He hunkered down once more, squinting down the scope and taking down one, two, three mercs in quick succession, clearing a path for the kid to get close to the tower. But the turret hounded his every move, tearing up the surface of the water and splitting the wooden planks beneath his feet.

Sully let out a yell of frustration as he watched the kid barely escape being riddled with holes. There was no way for Sully to get an angle on the turret from here, and all he could do was watch the kid’s back and pray none of the bullets met their target.

Twenty feet from the tower, Nate skidded behind a stack of weapon crates in a spray of splinters and tossed a grenade in a neat overarm arc, right through the window.

Sully barely had time to cover his ears before the entire structure burst apart, showering him with debris. He lay there for a moment, stunned and dazed, before a noise from behind had him scrabbling to his feet, rifle raised to his shoulder-

But it was Nate who appeared over the ledge, scraped up, bloody, and peppered with gunpowder. The kid flashed a grin but staggered a little as he took a step forward, and Sully caught him by the arm, giving him a quick pat down to check for more serious injuries he might be hiding – or might not even be aware of.

Nate pushed him away with a weary shake of his head. “Enough,” he panted, “of this… frivolity.”

A half-hysterical laugh burst out of Sully’s throat, relief and disbelief doing battle in his heart to see the kid in one piece. But the feeling was quickly replaced by nausea as he glanced back at the chaos and carnage below. Taking on an army was never in their plans. Especially one headed by a man who’d gut one of his own men for petty theft.

_All this bloodshed… For a mythical sapphire? This shit isn’t worth it._

Nate, however, was oblivious, already reabsorbed in the papers he’d stolen from Lazarevic as he slumped against a rock. As Sully looked over his shoulder, the kid pointed at a map of the area with a route the mountain all marked out in red. “It’s not far from here,” he said, still a little breathless. “There’s _gotta_ be something there.”

Sully suppressed a sigh. _There’s always one more clue. One more chance. One more try... When’s it gonna end? When we’re rich, or when we’re dead?_

But he couldn’t deny the excited grin on the kid’s face, the creases of his smile stark white against the mud and dried blood that covered his skin. He always was a sucker for Nate's enthusiasm, no matter how foolhardy it was.

“Let’s just get the hell out of here,” Sully grouched, half-shoving the kid onward down the trail. Onward to the mountain. To the next bad decision.

 

* * *

 

“Hello… What do we have here?”

_Speak of the devil…_

Chloe caught up with them at the entrance to a cavern, its floor half-collapsed – a yawning darkness waiting below.

“With any luck, the last resting place of Marco Polo’s crew,” Nate said, all his aches and pains from the fight seemingly forgotten as he bounced on the balls of his feet, eager to explore. 

Sully took up the rear as they headed down into the depths, checking over his shoulder every few seconds, all too aware that Lazarevic would surely have discovered his destroyed camp by now and be hot on their tail…

The kid, on the other hand, didn’t look behind even once – pulled forward by the inexorable lure of discovery. “This place must be thousands of years old, at least…” he whispered.

The opening led to a cavernous chamber, shored up with crumbling columns, packed to the gills with ancient, rotting barrels – and hundreds and hundreds of skeletons: the sad remains of Marco Polo’s expedition.

“Looks like we hit the jackpot…” Sully murmured.

The bodies lay in twisted piles, teeth blackened, jaws set in grimaces of pain, as if they’d died in agony. It was not the best of omens.

As if to cement the creepy-ass atmosphere, a flurry of bats appeared out of the darkness, screeching like tiny demons. Nate and Chloe ducked, and Sully flattened himself against the rock wall, heart pounding.

Chloe let out a shaky little laugh as she passed, patting him on the shoulder. “Getting jumpy in your old age, Sullivan?”

He cleared his throat and straightened his shirt. “Nothing wrong with staying alert,” he shot back. _Someone has to._   

Nate was already moving on, through a tunnel and into the next chamber where a similar sight greeted them: more barrels and cargo, more scattered bodies, all piled into the dingy space. Sully tried not to imagine what it would have been like – shipwrecked, sheltering from a tsunami, huddled together in fear. And they’d all died here in some horrible, mysterious way. He shuddered.

“Wait,” Nate said suddenly, peering into one of the barrels, “I’ve seen this before.” He straightened up and held out a blue rock, the size of his fist. It had an odd quality to it – like sea glass – almost glowing in the darkness. Nate picked up a discarded torch and dropped the stone into the brazier. “Sully, give me a light.”

Sully dutifully handed over his lighter, and the moment the flame touched the stone a haunting blue light illuminated the cavern. It was almost painful to look at – otherworldly and cold. And when the light touched the floor of the cavern, it revealed a strange trail, like a blacklight – something splattered across the ground. Something like…

“Blood.” 

A shiver ran through Sully. “Looks like a massacre,” he whispered.

Wordlessly, they followed the bloodstains, lit by Nate’s eerie torch, through to another chamber where more bodies lay as they’d fallen – twisted skeletons intertwined, jaws hanging open as if they were screaming.

“Y’know, maybe I’m crazy, but it looks like they killed each other,” Nate said, and Sully really wished he hadn’t, because he’d been thinking just the same thing and it was making his spine tingle.

“C’mon Nate, you’re just getting spooked,” he said gruffly, but couldn’t help but double check some of the darker shadows as they headed further into the room. Chloe seemed to be walking a little closer to him, too, and he could feel the fine hairs standing up on her arm as she brushed against him.

The trail of blood stopped at the far wall and Nate tossed the torch down beside a skeleton propped up on a set of steps. Whoever it was, they seemed to have been the last one standing; the winner of this losing game. And the skeleton still clutched something to its chest in a death grip – something cylindrical, wrapped in fabric or paper.

“Look at this,” the kid said, peering closer at the body, “What do we have here…?”

All three of them leaned forward, drawn towards the mystery, and Sully felt both anticipation and dread rising inside him as Nate reached out for the bundle in the skeleton’s arms.

“Careful…” Chloe breathed, unconsciously gripping hold of Sully’s elbow.

The darkness seemed to thicken as Nate’s fingers closed around it, and the kid let out a shrieking yell that echoed around the cavern. Sully and Chloe cried out, leaping backward - while Nate dissolved into cackling laughter. Like an asshole.

“Christ almighty,” Sully groaned, and Chloe paced the chamber, catching her breath and rolling her eyes to the ceiling.

“Just kidding!” Nate teased, shaking the bundle free of its skeletal cage.

Sully resisted the urge to sucker punch the kid. “Nate, you’re gonna give me a goddamn heart attack.”

_Ain’t that the truth._

Nate was still chuckling to himself as he unrolled the wrapping to reveal what looked like a foot-long golden dagger with a pyramid-shaped blade. At its other end, a gruesome face bared its teeth at the kid, glinting in the low light.

“Well isn't that an ugly frickin’ thing?” Sully had never seen anything like it before, but wasn’t in the least surprised to find that Nate knew exactly what it was. A _purba_ , a ritual object that acted as a metaphorical key, destroying ‘spiritual obstacles’ on the bearer’s journey. Whatever the hell that meant.

“Could this be what Marco Polo was talking about?” the kid said, eyes glittering in the blue light.

Sully sat down on the steps with a sigh. “Kid, I don’t even know what the hell _you’re_ talking about.”

Nate ignored Chloe’s laugh and impatiently explained: “In his journal he wrote that ‘ _a worthy seeker would be given a golden passport to conquer obstacles on the journal to Shambhala_.’”

Sully gave a grunt, looking around at the corpses that littered the cavern. Was Nate ‘worthy’? Were any of them? Thieves and conmen, scrambling around for treasure, and killing one other in the process, each thinking they had the 'right' to their claim. Had the same delusions of grandeur killed every single person in this room?

When he looked up again, Chloe and Nate had their heads together over a map, hot on the trail of the next clue - Nepal, this time - another needle in a haystack, another impossible quest. But Sully recognised the dangerous light in the kid's eyes all too well, and knew that now he'd caught the scent, he'd never let go.

Sully just wasn't sure his own heart was in it, this time. 

 

* * *

 

As they made their way back out of the cavern, Chloe went ahead to make sure the coast was clear and Sully hung back, tugging on Nate’s sleeve and nodding at the dagger tucked into the kid’s belt. “Mind if I take a look?”

“Sure,” Nate said, passing it over, one eye on Chloe’s disappearing figure as she climbed back up to the daylight.

Sully weighed the key in his hands. It was a hefty thing, solid gold, intricate and strangely beguiling, despite its ugliness. “Gotta be worth something on its own,” he mused. “Enough to rest on our laurels for a while. Not to mention the publicity around Marco Polo…” He risked a wink. “You could ask Elena to do a special.”

Nate scoffed. “Maybe when we’re done.”

“I mean,” Sully tried again, “Why not call it a day? You’ve found yourself a treasure, found the last resting place of Marco Polo's lost fleet… Not bad for a day's work. Maybe we just... leave it here. I mean, don’t think all those warnings in the journal might be a hint that it’s not worth the trouble?”

The kid looked at him like he was crazy, taking the dagger back as if he didn’t trust Sully with it any more. “This is the _key_ , Sully. The golden passport to Shambhala.”

“Or it’s a myth,” Sully countered. “Or it’s buried under six hundred years of construction in Nepal. Or it’s another lost cause that’s gonna get us killed, just like El Dorado. Just like the Amber Seal, and the City of Gold, and the Eye of Indra… Not to mention the fact we’ve got Lazarevic and his goddamn _army_ at our heels.”

“Oh ye of little faith…” Nate laughed, securing the dagger in his belt once more and starting to climb out of the chamber after Chloe. “Don’t go getting cold feet now, Sully. We’re two steps ahead!”

_Which is exactly when you trip and fall on your face._

There was nothing to do but follow. Sully shook his head and began clambering back up the broken wall to the open air, glad to be out of that tomb, at least. Nate grabbed his arm as he reached the top, hauling him over the edge with a grunt of effort. But the moment they got to their feet the sound of angry shouts greeted their ears. Chloe rounded the corner of an archway and froze when she saw them – sparing just a moment of uncertainty before she whipped out her gun and aimed it right at the kid’s head.

“Harry! In here! It’s Drake,” she called out over her shoulder.

Nate took a step towards her. “What the hell?”  
  
“Get your hands up!” she snapped as Flynn and a group of soldiers appeared behind her.

Sully raised his hands slowly, eyeing Nate sideways. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“Shut up, Sully.” The kid was staring at Chloe in disbelief. Hurt and anger fighting for precedence in his eyes.

“Should’ve known it was you,” Flynn said, a shit-eating grin on his face as he approached. “And _you_ , Victor ‘goddamn’ Sullivan…”

Sully rose above the poor impersonation, but Flynn leaned passed him to stage-whisper at Nate: “You still dragging this tired old sack of shit around?”

The kid dropped his hands and jerked forward, temper well and truly lost, but Sully held him back with a restraining hand on his chest, “Easy, Nate.”

Sully appreciated the sentiment but now was not the time to be defending his honour. Besides, at that moment, he couldn’t help but half agree. He was tired. Damn tired. And lately all he seemed to do was hold the kid back.

Flynn seemed to find the whole thing entertaining. “Pretty ballsy for a man who just spent three months behind bars,” he jibed.  
  
“Better than spending three months in the jungle without a clue,” Nate shot back.

“Found the ships though, didn’t I?”

Nate sighed. “You couldn’t find your own ass with both hands.”

“And a map,” Sully added, for good measure.

Chloe stepped forward and kicked Nate’s feet apart, patting him down and confiscating the map and key. “Woah…Harry, look at this.”

Sully could see Nate bursting to snatch them back. To grab the girl and shake her, even. The betrayal in his face was clear as day, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze.

Harry took the map and began clunkily translating the script. Nate rolled his eyes so hard Sully was surprised the kid didn’t pull something. “Jesus, Flynn, while we’re young.”

But Flynn’s smile never faltered. “Take them to Lazarevic,” he said to Chloe, then leaned in towards Nate with a sneer, “You’re gonna wish you stayed in prison, mate.”

“Well? Come on,” Chloe ordered, and the guards herded the two prisoners through the archway as Flynn disappeared down into the cavern behind them.

Sully’s mind whirred as they were forced down the path. So. She’d sold them out. Sully couldn’t say he hadn’t seen it coming, but he was surprised at how quickly she’d taken sides. He could feel Nate fuming silently beside him and hoped the kid would still be able to think straight when - if - they got their chance to escape.

But he barely got to consider the thought before the decision was made for him. 

Just as one of the guards shoved Nate forward, Chloe pistol-whipped the merc in the back of the head and he crumpled into the mud. The others turned in surprise and Sully acted on instinct as the guard beside him raised his gun to fire at her, yanking the man’s arm up and jabbing an elbow into his throat. But not before the soldier found the trigger... Chloe staggered a little and cried out, clutching at a graze on her arm.

“Ah, shit.”

Nate had finished dispatching his own guard and darted forward, eyes full of concern. “Are you all right?”

“Well, at least it’ll make it look more believable,” she said with a wincing smile, waving away his concerned hands and passing him the dagger and the map instead.

Sully stared at her.  _Well I'll be goddamned._

“Now, I’m going to try to buy you some time...” she said, glancing nervously behind her – the sound of the gunshots had already raised the alarm and Sully could hear running footsteps heading their way.

Nate shook his head, looking sick with worry. “No, Chloe, you have to come with us-”

She shut him up with a kiss, pushing him backwards as the shouts grew closer and closer. “No, just meet me in Nepal. Now run!”

Sully didn’t need telling twice. He grabbed a fistful of Nate's shirt and dragged him towards the clifftop as Chloe darted back the way they’d come. Back to Flynn and Lazarevic. Back to the hornet's nest.

_She's got balls, I'll give her that._

“I like her,” Sully said with a grimace. 

“Yeah,” Nate smirked, always thinking the worst of him, “I bet you do…”

Sully was about to defend his spotless reputation as a gentleman when shots rang out - far too close for comfort. They’d already been spotted, and the clifftop path was rapidly coming to an end. They both stuttered to a stop as a sheer drop greeted them, a fast-flowing river far below, and they edged around the corner, balancing on a precarious ledge.

“Damnit, now what do we do?” Sully panted.

Nate shrugged, peering down at the foaming water. “We jump.”

Sully shook his head incredulously, “Hold on there, Sundance, you’ve gotta be out of your mind. We jump down there, we’ll break our goddamn necks!”

The kid gave him a hopeless kind of smile. “We stick around, Lazarevic’ll break ‘em for us…”

_Fair point._

“I’m getting too old for this bullshit…”

Nate scowled. “Ah, c’mon, now don’t you start this again.”

They’d had the conversation more than once since El Dorado, but Nate had been offended at the mere suggestion that Sully might not want to go running into danger every five minutes. That he might just like to cash in his chips and take a goddamn break for a while. That maybe he was becoming more of a liability than an ally. But the kid wouldn't listen to any of it. They were _partners_. And Sully couldn't argue with that.  

“Listen,” he tried, “I don’t have your luck. Guys like me gotta know when to walk away from the table.”

Nate’s voice softened a little. “Sully, we’re gonna get out of this, okay? We always do.”

The kid’s blind optimism was almost painful to hear. _Is that what he really believes? After everything? After Sam? That we're untouchable?_ Sully could still feel the ghost of a bruise on his chest where Roman’s bullet had hit home – stopped miraculously by Drake’s journal. Maybe it was a sign. _No one gets that lucky more than once._

And Sully made his decision. “You go meet your girl in Nepal. I’m going somewhere warm.”

_Somewhere boring. And quiet. With Carolina, maybe. With nothing to do but..._

“Oh, come on,” Nate scoffed, but Sully cut him off with a wave.

“Hey, you can tell me all about it when you get back.”

The kid was about to argue but they were all out of time. The soldiers behind them were getting closer and the cliff edge was calling. There was no other way out of this. Sully peered over the edge and his stomach flipped, but he swallowed down the fear and nodded at the kid.

“Well, shall we?”

Nate gave a lopsided smile. “After you, Butch.”

Sully couldn’t help but return the grin. How many times had they sat and watched that movie together? Him and Sam on the couch, Nate inevitably relegated to the floor, mouthing every line, humming along to ‘raindrops keep falling on my head’, and falling silent in those magical, agonising final moments as Butch and Sundance realise they’re outnumbered, out of luck, and there’s only one way to go out – in a freeze-frame blaze of glory. It was a perfect ending, Sully thought - glorifying their outrageous thievery and conveniently cutting off the part where they end up riddled with bullets. There was a reason Butch and Sundance never made it to Sully’s age… But you couldn’t deny that thrill. And maybe he’d miss all this. Just a little.

_Well. Better make this count._

He took a deep breath and let go of the rocky wall behind him, teetering on the ledge. “See you in hell, kid!”

He jumped before his rational brain could catch up with him, wind whistling in his ears, the river rushing up to meet him. He heard a long, heartfelt: “Oh craaaaaaaap!” as Nate followed a few seconds after. And then he was underwater, the current tossing him upside down and around before finally spitting him out again. A moment later Nate’s head popped up, too, eyes wide with adrenaline and mouth full of curses.

Gunshots ricocheted off the cliff side but they were well out of range, and the figures on the ledges above grew tiny as the current jostled them downstream.

Eventually, they reached calmer waters and dragged themselves out onto dry land, bedraggled, half-drowned, but alive, goddamnit. Sully heard Nate’s spluttering laughter behind him as he crawled up the muddy bank and flopped onto his bank, chest heaving.

“Holy shit,” the kid breathed.

“Let’s… never do that again,” Sully replied.

Nate collapsed beside him with a grunt. “Agreed.”

They lay there, catching their breath and counting their blessings for a long minute. They were safe – for now – and in that moment, Sully could have stayed there forever. Just him and his boy under the sun.

But a noise of pain from Nate brought him out of the daydream. He looked around to see the kid struggling to sit up, one hand clamped beneath the opposite armpit where blood stained his shirt.

Sully was at his side in seconds. “Jesus, let me see,” he said, prising the kid’s fingers free and inspecting the wound, ignoring the protests and hisses of discomfort. The shot had clipped him, just above his ribs on the left side – nothing serious, but all the running and swimming had gotten his blood running fast and Sully’s hands were already covered in it. He cursed in several languages as he searched for a clean piece of fabric to staunch the flow, finally settling on his own shirtsleeve which was already hanging by a ragged thread. He ripped it off and wadded it up against the wound. Nate let out a low cry of pain, hands making fists in the mud. 

“You’re gonna need stitches,” Sully tutted. “Again.”

“Quit fretting,” Nate said hoarsely.

“Yeah, well, that’s my job, kid,” Sully said flatly.

_And I’m never gonna stop fretting. Not until you stop putting yourself in danger._

The kid wasn’t even listening. He was smoothing the map out his knees, trying to dry it in the sun, muttering translations under his breath.

Sully glared at the grinning face on the dagger sticking out of Nate’s belt.

_But he's never gonna stop, though, is he?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a longer one but I'm trying to get through all this combat asap. I've tried to add in as much internal noodling as I can but feel like this re-hashing of gameplay can get a little boring. Is it boring? Tell me. If so, I'll try to adjust my approach from now on.
> 
> But hey. You know what's coming next? DOWNTIME. Sully is out of it for the whole of Nepal and most of Tibet, which means we get to see what he's up to in the meantime... And then.... Hoo boy, you know what's after that? BOTH his surrogate kiddos get busted up and he has to fly off to the rescue. So much angst is in our future, people.
> 
> So. I hope this serves as a nice little filler before then, and I'm looking forward to writing the next parts and finishing up UC2 sooooon.


	24. Not That Lucky

Another motel bathroom. Another line of stitches on the kid’s skin. Sully could map out the last fifteen years he’d spent with Nate in scar tissue, and it occurred to him that pain and injury were not ideal ways to measure a relationship. 

He scrubbed at the blood underneath his fingernails with a scowl.

“Why don’t you at least take a day or two to rest up?” he said, watching Nate struggle to put a fresh shirt on. He’d had to negotiate just to get the kid to sit down for five minutes, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he was out the door again – off to Nepal and whatever fresh hells and hair-raising dangers awaited him there.

“No time to waste,” the kid said with a dismissive wave, “Now that Flynn’s seen the map we’ve gotta hurry…”

Nate pulled a chair over to the bed and resumed his study of Marco Polo’s journals, wincing every time he made too sharp a movement. The mattress was covered in files and maps and research, stolen at no small cost from Lazarevic. And they knew what that monster did to thieves.

Sully picked through the papers and uncovered the grinning _purba._  He poked it distastefully. “Sure I can’t convince you to just sell the damn thing and be done with it? I know a guy…”

Nate gave him a flat look. “Sure I can’t convince _you_ to come with? You can’t tell me you’re not just a little interested…”

Sully sighed. He had his own share of aches and pains and he could still smell the iron tinge of blood in the air. In fact, he couldn’t remember a job in recent years where they had escaped unscathed. And the ‘what ifs’ were starting to get to him. Nate might bounce back from every hit but Sully was getting too old for bullet wounds and broken bones. Hell, he’d damn near broken every single one of ‘em jumping off that cliff…

He lit a cigar and leaned against the balcony, shaking his head slowly. “Kid, you ever think maybe it’s just not worth the trouble?”

Nate’s face told him, very clearly, that he did not. He frowned up at him curiously. “What’s got into you, Sully?” 

Sully shrugged. “I’m just being cautious, that’s all. You don’t think there’s something hinky about all of this? I mean, not to be superstitious, but the last time we came across an ancient curse it half-turned out to be true-”

“The Cintamani Stone isn’t cursed,” Nate cut him off firmly.

“Oh really? So all that stuff about ‘dreadful cargo’ was just hyperbole, huh?”

Sully thought of all those skeletons in the mountain cave; their twisted bodies; their blackened teeth; their screaming skulls… He’d acquired a pretty decent sixth sense when it came to these things, but the horror show in Borneo should have been a giant red flag to anyone with half a brain. And then there was Nate, who just seemed to run towards the danger. 

“Look, whatever Marco Polo came back with, it wasn’t the stone,” the kid reasoned, sifting through the papers as if he might suddenly discover a clue he’d missed. “Maybe… maybe they picked up some foreign disease or something. He’s just being… metaphorical.”

Sully let out a stream of smoke with an unamused laugh. “Metaphorical, my ass.”

“And anyway,” Nate said, ignoring him, “Chloe’s still out there. I can’t just leave her.”

 Sully gave an unimpressed ‘humph’ and the kid’s eyes narrowed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Chloe is more than capable of taking care of herself,” Sully said carefully.

“So you keep saying.”

“Well, it’s true. A little _too_ well, if you ask me.”

Nate leaned back on his chair, staring him out with an expression that was half defiance, half hurt. “You still think she’s gonna screw me over, don’t you?” he said slowly.

Sully hated nothing more than being on the opposite side of an argument with the kid, but it was time to speak his mind. “Maybe, maybe not," he shrugged. "But either way, I’m pretty damn sure she’s using you.”

Nate’s eyes flashed angrily, and for a moment Sully saw a ghost of Sam in the kid’s tightened jaw.

“Why the hell would she do that?” Nate snapped, “She gave me back the map and the key, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Sully said, “Because Flynn’s a moron, and she knows you’ve got a helluva better chance at finding whatever’s buried in Nepal. She stays close to you, she finds the next clue and then…”

The kid opened his mouth to retort but then shut it again.

Sully wanted to trust Chloe. He did. And even if she ended up double-crossing the kid he knew he wouldn’t hate her for it. It was a solid play. And it’s exactly what the old Sully would have done, which made ruining the kid’s innocence even worse. 

“She’s not like that,” Nate said eventually, but Sully couldn’t stand the look on the kid’s face – a resigned kind of misery, as if he didn’t quite believe his own words.

And it hadn't been so long ago that Nate had half-believed that Sully had sold him out to Roman. He'd never shake the memory of having the kid look at him with such distrust. It had made him wish Roman's bullet really had hit its mark.

“Okay,” he said softly, letting this one go. “Hey, you know her better than I do.”

Nate nodded, but Sully could tell he’d planted a seed of doubt and he felt terrible for it. He tried a different tack, instead.

“I’m just sayin’… With El Dorado - the whole Francis Drake thing - it was personal. I get that. It was something you needed to do. For you.”

He hesitated a moment, then added, “For Sam.”

Nate all but flinched at the name and his eyes snapped up to Sully’s with a warning. “Don’t-”

Sully held up his hands in defence. “I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but you'll admit that it meant something, right?”

He waited for Nate’s tiny nod, trying to ignore the stab of guilt in his chest. He forged on, desperate to get through to him.

“But this?" he jabbed a finger at the _purba_. "The Cintamani Stone? It’s just another lost treasure. What does it mean to you? What would happen if you just… walked away? You wanna get one over on Flynn? Is that it? All this, over wounded pride?”

“Oh come on…” Nate rolled his eyes but Sully could see real anger bubbling under the surface. Maybe he was pushing too far. But he wasn’t done yet.

“Or are you just trying to impress the girl?”

Nate shoved his chair back and tossed the files onto the bed in frustration. “Jesus, Sully. I’m not going to just… abandon her.”

_And there it is._

Sully paused, eyeing him shrewdly. “Careful, Nate. Your hero complex is showing…”

“What?” Nate snapped.

"You couldn't save Sam, so you try to save everyone else-" The words were out of his mouth before he could swallow them. 

The kid balked, as if every mention of his brother was a blow. "Just- Stop." 

Sully shook his head, suddenly feeling the full weight of his exhaustion, but he couldn't stop now. His voice softened a little, instead. “You throw yourself into danger without a moment’s thought… You do it all the damn time. For me, for Elena, for Chloe… But you’re not invincible.” He pointed his cigar at the blooming bloodstain on Nate’s t-shirt where he’d already pulled a stitch. “And you’re not _that_ lucky, kid.”

Nate was silent for a long moment, pressing his hand against the wound with a grimace and staring at the blood on his fingers. He attempted one of his roguish smiles but his heart wasn’t quite in it. “Well," he said, in a tight voice. "I've made it this far…”

Sully let out an infuriated grunt and tossed the stub of his cigar over the balcony. “ _I mean it, Nate_. One of these days…" He could barely say the words out loud. "It’s like you want to see how far you can push it. And I- I can’t be there when it happens. I can’t watch that.”

_Not again. Not after Sam._

For once, the kid shut up. Sully stared at the carpet, chest tight, a lump in his throat. He could feel Nate staring at him but he didn’t dare meet his eyes. He didn’t want to fight any more. He needed some goddamn air.

Nate stood up as he passed, making a grab for his shoulder. “Sully…”

But Sully shrugged him off. “I’m gonna get us some food,” he muttered as he headed for the door.

_And a drink. Or three._

 

* * *

 

But when he got back, the room was empty, besides a note on the pillow that read:

_Don’t worry. I’ll bring you back something shiny._

 

* * *

 

Sully flew back to New Orleans alone, in a silence full of doubts. Carolina made a fuss about his bruises but didn’t ask questions, and she kept the drinks coming until he all but fell asleep at the bar.

“Time for bed, old man,” she whispered in his ear, nudging him off his bar stool.

He grouched, reaching for his drink, but found a glass of water there instead.

“Hey. Less of the old,” he murmured, but he did as he was told, and woke up with her curled against his back, one arm wrapped around his chest. 

He brought her breakfast and coffee and apologies for all the times she’d asked him not to go - all the times he’d done exactly as Nate had done and gone anyway.

“How does it feel?” she said with a sad smile.

“Like shit.”

She nodded once and sipped her coffee. “Uh huh.”

_Okay, I deserved that._

He rubbed her feet through the covers. “Tell me not to go after him.”

She gave him a sharp look. “That’s not my call.”

“You think I _should_ , then?”

Carolina sighed a long-suffering sigh. “That’s not the point. This is between you and Nate. I can’t tell you what to do.” And there was that bittersweet smile again. “Learned that one a long time ago…”

Sully shook his head. He knew she was right, but there was no easy answer. Every solution had an opposing argument that was just as convincing.

If he went after the kid, he’d just be enabling him. Maybe it was time to let him go make his own mistakes. But what if one of those mistakes was fatal? What if this turned out like Panama? Sully had walked away from that one, too. He hadn’t been there when it mattered, when he could have made a difference, and he would never forgive himself for that. But he also had to face the fact that wasn’t going to be around forever. He really _was_ getting too old for this shit, and sooner or later he was going to start holding Nate back. Or worse, putting him in more danger.

And really, what more could he do? He’d tried his best to persuade Nate to give it up but the stubborn little bastard just wouldn’t listen. All he could do now was trust him. And hope that the kid’s luck held out a little longer.

He looked up to see Carolina watching him with a furrowed brow.

“He’s gonna be okay, right?” he asked her. “He’s being an idiot, but he always ends up okay.”

“What do you want me to say, Victor?” Carolina said carefully, setting down her coffee.

He stared at her hopelessly. “I want you to tell me I did the right thing. Tell me not to worry. Tell me I’m not gonna lose him, too.”

She sighed again and took his hand, running her thumb over the scars and scrapes on his knuckles. “That boy doesn’t deserve you, you know that?”

Sully looked away, thinking of all the things he’d do differently given a fresh chance. “He deserves a whole lot better,” he said gruffly.

“Well. Maybe you deserve each other, then.” Carolina watched him with an affectionate twist to her lips. “You know, fifteen years ago I was ready to kick your ass if I ever saw you again. And then you come around with this little scrap of a kid, looking for somewhere quiet to lay low, and what am I supposed to do? Throw you both out?”

Sully looked up at her sheepishly. “Maybe you should have.”

“Maybe. But you were different, somehow,” she said thoughtfully, “Like something had put the fear of God into you.”

Sully thought back to that first meeting with Nate. Marlowe slapping the boy. Sending her goons after him. The chase across the rooftops. A gun in his shaky hands, terror in those ocean-coloured eyes.

Damn right it’d put the fear of god into Sully. And he’d never got rid of it.

“Kid’s been nothin’ but trouble since we met,” he said ruefully, but Carolina didn’t buy the dismissive tone for a second.

”Maybe you needed a little fear in your life. To show you there’s something worth losing,” she said, giving his shoulder a nudge.

But Sully was all too aware of what he had to lose. And all he seemed to do these days was feel afraid. He shook his head, wondering about how things might have been if he’d given it all up then and there. Been a father to the kid instead of leading him deeper into the underworld.

He reached up and combed his fingers through Carolina’s hair. “You made the right decision,” he told her, “To get out of the game all those years ago. Buy this place, settle down-”

She cut him off with a laugh. “You think I’m out of it? D’you know how many back room deals go on in my bar? How many ‘aiding and abetting’ charges I could get hauled in on?” She nudged him again, a little harder this time, and he almost fell off the bed. “And I’ve harboured my fair share of fugitives…”

He turned on his best Sullivan smile, scooting back over to her: “But I’m still your favourite, right?”

She pretended to think about it, head cocked to the side. “Let’s just say you’re in the top ten.”

“I’ll have to work on that,” he murmured, trailing kisses up her shoulder. He turned her hand over and traced out the lines on her palm. How close had he come to losing _her_ , all those years ago? And why the hell did he deserve to have her take him back? He’d broken too many promises to her in the past but he made another one now. A silent one. One he planned to keep.

He would try to make it up to her – and Nate - give them the life they might have had. A normal life. A goddamn retirement. A few more jobs to shore up his savings, maybe – help pay off the rest of Carolina’s mortgage – and then no more running. No more dodgy deals. No more hanging around with crooks and fighting for treasure. Lead by example and hope that the kid would follow.

And in the meantime? Sully tried to swallow down the worry; that sick, nagging feeling that fate was waiting around the next corner, ready to trip the kid up. There was nothing he could do but wait and hope and pray and trust that he’d get his boy back in one piece.

 

* * *

 

And he did. More or less. In pieces, anyway.

After almost a week of watching his phone it finally rang in the middle of the night – the kind of hour when it can only be bad news.

He snatched it up before the second ring with a hoarse, “Kid?” but it wasn’t Nate on the other end.

”Sully...”

“Elena?”

He strained to hear her over the crackly line, pressing the phone tight against his ear. Carolina was still surfacing from sleep and made a questioning noise but he waved her into silence.

“Elena? What’s going on?”

“Well, I found him.” Her voice was shaky, and she sounded close to tears, but she gave a half-hearted laugh anyway.

“Nate? Is he okay? Where are you?”

At the mention of the kid’s name, Carolina’s eyes widened and she took hold of Sully’s free hand and squeezed.

But Elena was getting harder and harder to make out as the call dropped and stalled every few seconds. “I don’t have long … had to hike down … mountain just to get … signal…”

“Mountain? Where the hell are you?”

“Tibet! Hang on, I … coordinates here … somewhere…”

Sully looked around frantically for pen and paper, miming to Carolina for help. She slipped out of bed wordlessly and started hunting around on her dresser, but Elena was already calling out numbers too fast for Sully to follow.

“Wait, hold on a minute, darlin’-”

Carolina dropped a notepad and pencil in his lap and sat beside him, worry creasing her forehead. Sully hurriedly scribbled down the few digits he could remember.

“You gotta say that again,” he said, “You’re breaking up-”

For a moment there was only static and he didn’t dare breathe. But then the line connected once more and he thought he heard a choking kind of sob.

“…shot him, Sully,” Elena said, in a very small voice.

His blood ran cold. “What? Who got shot?”

He heard Carolina’s sharp intake of breath but he was barely aware of anything else around him, his full focus zoned in on the faint voice at the end of the phone.

“He’s okay… He’s gonna be okay… But you’ve got to… please…”

The call ended with an obnoxious bleep and Sully almost threw the phone at the wall. His hands were shaking and Carolina clamped both of hers over his. He swallowed thickly, staring at the jumble of numbers scrawled on the notepad. It wasn’t a complete reference but he’d have to make sense of it. The kid needed him. 

Carolina’s cool hand cupped his cheek and he jolted out of his thoughts.

“I should’ve been there,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Her eyes were full of sympathy, but there were tears of sadness, too. “You can’t always be there, Victor.”

He forced down the lump in his throat and shook off her gentle touch. He didn’t deserve it and he didn’t want to listen to logic right now. The only thing that mattered was getting to Nate. 

“I gotta go,” he said, tearing himself from the warmth of her bed, fumbling for his clothes and heading for the door.

“I know,” she said quietly. And he couldn’t bring himself to turn around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I’ve accidentally committed to shipping Sullorina - I apologise for the additional thread of angst but hey, Nate can’t be the only one with relationship issues huh? I hope you’re on board the ship, too...
> 
> And I am both excited and terrified for writing the next part. It might take me a while to get it right... so many feels. So many. Arg.


	25. In Pieces

He flew in circles over the Himalayas, trying not to think the worst, refusing to acknowledge how slim his chances of finding the kid were – like finding a grain of salt in an avalanche.

The few words he’d managed to hear down the phone still rang in his ears. Someone had shot Nate. Elena had said he was okay but her tone had said otherwise. And the nearest hospital was hundreds of miles away. Her voice before she’d been cut off had been pleading, and it echoed in his head over and over: “ _You’ve got to… please…_ ”

His jaw tightened as he made another pass over the same damn mountains, the same empty landscape, looking for a sign.

He’d narrowed down his search area to a stretch of the border between Tibet and Nepal, but the numbers Elena had given him weren’t enough to pinpoint the location with any kind of accuracy. He was flying semi-blind, and running out of fuel, with nothing but hope to keep him in the air.

He gripped the yoke with white-knuckle fists. The kid was somewhere out there – possibly bleeding out from a gunshot – and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

He let the plane drop lower - closer to the peaks but much riskier, the rocky landscape half-obscured by cloud cover and snow. He didn’t care. There had to be something to tell him where Nate and Elena had gone. But every fresh view looked exactly the same. Rock and snow and sky and no sign of life.

He let out a stream of curses, calling Nate every name he knew, and damning himself into the bargain. Stupid goddamn kid for running off. Stupid old man for letting him. And the little voice that had lived inside his head the past week sneered: _I told you this would happen._

He peered through the gathering clouds in desperation, throat tight and eyes stinging, and then suddenly there it was. A flame. More than one, in fact. Tiny pinpricks of light peppered across a plateau, tucked within the bowl of a mountaintop. A village. Smoke trailed into the sky from numerous fires, and as he got a closer look he saw the wreckage of vehicles and the guttering remains half-destroyed buildings, and- _Jesus Christ, is that a tank?_

It looked like a battleground. A tingle of dread made its way down his spine. 

He brought the plane down as gently as he could onto a wide expanse of what he hoped was firm snow behind the village, and before his engines had time to power down the aircraft was surrounded by locals, armed with a bizarre combination of ornate carved crossbows and semi-automatic weapons.

Sully’s heart pounded with adrenaline and he reached for his pistol, but paused, hand half way to the holster, scanning the crowd properly. None of them looked to be part of Lazarevic’s army. In fact, they didn't look like fighters at all - just scared and bloodied, as if they’d already been through hell. And, judging by the remains of their homes, that’s exactly what had happened, caught in the crossfire of whatever fool's errand had led Nate here. Sully felt a lurch of sympathy. And second-hand guilt. These people weren’t angling for another fight. They were defending their home from the next potential asshole to appear out of nowhere.

Sully had no desire to give them any more grief. He needed their help if he had any hope of finding the kid. He stepped out of the plane into the freezing air with his hands held high.

Anxious, suspicious faces stared at him, but nobody moved. Nobody spoke.

Sully shivered uncontrollably in the frigid air. He hadn’t packed for this kind of weather – had barely brought anything more than his gun and radio with him – and he suddenly felt a wave of defeat weigh him down. What the hell was he doing? He was way out of his depth. He wasn’t prepared for a mountain search and rescue mission. He barely knew where to start.

Except that was a lie. If he knew how the kid at all, he knew to follow the trail of destruction. 

He cleared his throat and his voice carried across the mountainside like an echo. “I’m looking for Nate,” he said. 

There was no response.

_Of course they don't speak English. Just like you don't speak Tibetan. Idiot._

He tried again. “Uhh. Big dumb guy. Blows shit up,” he mimed an explosion and pointed to the burning buildings in the distance. “Got himself shot,” he added bitterly, making a ‘pew’ noise and firing a finger gun. The woman closest to him raised her crossbow a little higher.

“Woah, no, no, I mean-” he said, spreading his arms wider, “He’s my friend. Nate. Nathan Drake. And Elena, too. They _must’ve_ been here…”

“Drake?” said a voice from the middle of the crowd. A dark-eyed, sombre-looking man stepped forward, a rifle slung loosely over his arm. His gaze pierced Sully with a concerned kind of urgency.

“Yes,” Sully said quickly, restraining himself from reaching forward and grabbing the guy by his collar, “Drake. You know him? Where is he?”

The man shook his head sorrowfully and said something in his own language that Sully couldn’t even begin to decipher.

Fear crept down Sully's neck and made him shiver even more than the icy weather.  _Goddamnit, is he even still alive?_

“Where?” Sully said again, more insistently this time, gesturing around. “Where is Drake?”

He looked from face to face but no answers were forthcoming. The man who had spoken turned without a word and made his way through the crowd, jerking his chin for Sully to follow him.

“Wait-” Sully stumbled forward, shuddering with the cold now but hardly even caring, and the people parted to let him through.

As he reached the edge of the crowd another man caught his arm and pulled him to a halt. Sully was so on edge he almost decked him, but the Tibetan muttered something that sounded like a parent chastising a wayward child, and Sully watched in disbelief as the man shrugged off his jacket and pressed it into Sully’s hands.

Sully gaped at the unexpected kindness and stammered his thanks, feeling like he was inside a dream. Maybe he was still back in bed with Carolina, having another nightmare, and none of this was even real. But then a flurry of snow hit him square in the face and he shook himself back to reality.

_Get yourself together, old man. You've got a job to do._

He wrapped the coat around himself gratefully, burrowing into the sheepskin lining, and his frozen muscles began to release.

The man with the rifle beckoned him forward, through the smouldering ruins of the village, past the bodies of black-clad soldiers that Sully recognised as Lazarevic’s mercenaries, past an intricately carved shrine, and onto a dirt track where a military truck stood.

The man climbed into the cab of the truck and moved over to the passenger side, holding out the keys to Sully.

“Drake,” the Tibetan said again, pointing up the track. “’Lena.”

Sully took the keys, hoping to high heaven he wasn’t being taken to a couple of fresh graves.

The other man paused for a moment, frowning a little as he forced out the unfamiliar words: “Help Drake.”

Sully nodded grimly, clambering up into the driver’s seat and gunning the engine. “Just show me where,” he said gruffly.

  

* * *

 

The glare of the sun on snow was so bright it made it difficult to judge distance, and Sully daren’t look too closely at the sheer drop off the edge of the track. The remains of other vehicles, some of them still burning, led an ominous trail from one disaster to another. A temple in ruins. A broken bridge they had to circumvent via an icy ridge. An outpost littered with bodies, and the remains of some kind of wild animal – huge and hairy, with gruesome horns and curved teeth. Sully didn’t bother to ask what it was. He wouldn’t have understood the reply, and so long as it was dead he didn’t really want to know.

At every stop they checked for signs of the kid and Elena, moving from dead body to dead body, hoping not to find a familiar face. More than once Sully had to stop and retch, not sure if it was the altitude making him sick, or the anxiety twisting up his guts, or simply the sheer amount of death surrounding him. The longer it took, the further they went, he could feel their time running out.

Logically - coldly - he knew the chances of finding the kid alive were next to nothing. And inside, his inner monologue tortured him with all the ways it might have happened. Unbidden, visions of Nate’s dead body flitted through his head: lying broken at the bottom of the valley; flesh torn apart by gunfire; throat sliced open by Lazarevic’s serrated knife; frozen skin, blue and translucent...

Every fruitless search only fuelled the self-loathing bubbling up inside him.  _You should’ve been there. You could have saved him._

Weighed down with dread, he climbed back into the truck, not sure if the numbness in his limbs was from the cold or grief. The Tibetan made no comment as they headed off up the mountain, aside from occasionally directing Sully’s driving, until they cleared a ridge and the sight ahead made them both swear in their respective languages.

A strange blue fire lit the sky, punctuated by the thick black smoke of explosions. The ground beneath the truck seemed to tremble and Sully gripped the wheel tighter as the tires skidded on the track. The Tibetan’s eyes were wide with dread but he pointed forward, onward to a structure on the hilltop – another temple-like building within a plaza filled with fallen statues. And, just as before, all around were the signs of death and bloodshed.

They could go no further in the truck and Sully half-fell out of the cab, gasping in the sudden hike in altitude. He moved through the half-collapsed buildings in a leaden trance, almost too afraid to look too closely in case he saw what he dreaded most of all. The Tibetan followed more cautiously, rifle at the ready, eyes darting into every corner.

This was the last stop. There was no more road. Nowhere else to look. Nate had to be here. _He had to be_. Sully’s breathing became ragged as his panicked thoughts almost overwhelmed him. He forced it down and gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. _Focus. Find him._

“Nate!” Sully yelled, and his voice rebounded back off the mountainside. The Tibetan made a hissing, shushing sound behind him, but Sully ignored it, calling out again and again. He didn’t care if there were more soldiers waiting. Or more of those abominable monsters. He was ready. _Let ‘em come._ _Let ‘em try._

But there was nothing but snow and a thousand footprints all melded into a sludgy mess of mud and blood and spent bullet casings. The weather was worsening, clouds darkening, and the snow began to fall once more.

“Goddamnit, kid, where are you?”

As if in answer, the ground shook once more, and a sound like a landslide roared through the valley below. Sully fell sideways, steadying himself against a pillar, but a fire ignited in his chest. He knew this game: _follow the explosions – find the kid_.

Spurred on by the thought, he headed towards the noise but the Tibetan held him back with a fistful of his coat, speaking fast but unintelligibly.

Sully shook him off angrily. “He’s here,” he insisted. “He’s gotta be.”

But the other man shook his head, pointing towards an archway filled with swirling snow. Two dark figures emerged, one of them strangely shaped, wider than a normal person. One of those monstrous creatures, maybe… Sully and the Tibetan raised their weapons as one, barely breathing, unable to see clearly through the snowstorm. Sully’s finger twitched on the trigger. He was too numb to feel anything but a desperate need to hurt something. He let the coldness of revenge flow through him and focused his aim, ready to fire, but-

“Drake!” the Tibetan barked suddenly, and Sully let his arm drop limply to his side as the figures came into view.

It was the kid, carrying a body. Chloe beside him. Which meant-

_Oh God. Elena._

Sully crossed the distance between them in seconds but it felt like forever. And the closer he got, the worse the sight that greeted him became.

All three of them were covered in scrapes and injuries - that was par for the course - but Elena’s shirt was soaked in blood and she lay limp in Nate’s arms.

Sully's heart dropped. _She can’t- She can’t be._

The kid staggered with exhaustion and fell to his knees in the snow, cradling Elena’s head in his lap. He looked up at Sully in desperation and his voice was broken and hoarse. "Sully... Sully, you gotta help her..." 

Sully fought to keep his voice steady as he crouched beside him. “Is she breathing?”

Nate gave a hopeless shrug but couldn’t seem to speak any more. His bloody hands trembled as he wiped the falling snow from her face.

Sully pressed his fingers against the faint pulse in Elena’s throat and let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

She was still with them, at least. But they would have to move fast if they wanted to keep it that way. Sully was no medic, but he made a quick assessment of the many injuries that covered her left side, careful not to move her more than he had to. She’d clearly lost a fair amount of blood but none of the wounds looked too serious – shrapnel, he guessed, and felt a little shudder go through him at the thought. Still, she was breathing, and the frozen air had slowed the bleeding. But he knew the cold and the shock were more of a danger to her right now. He tore off his jacket and wrapped it around her gently. It was quickly joined by another as the Tibetan added his own coat to the cause.

Nate looked up in surprise, noticing the other man for the first time. “Tenzin!”

The Tibetan gave the kid a familiar nod and beckoned hurriedly towards the truck - Chloe already had the motor running. But at that moment, another tremor, deep within the earth, made the ground beneath them shift, and one of the towers collapsed in a cloud of snow and debris. Nate threw himself across Elena’s body instinctively, shielding her from the mud and splinters that rained down upon them.

Sully stared around at the destruction with a horrified kind of awe. _What the hell did you do, kid?_

“Let’s get her out of here,” he said, sliding his arms beneath Elena shoulders and knees and gingerly lifting her out of Nate’s arms. The kid knelt there for a second, almost frozen with shock, until another booming explosion woke him from his stupor and he stumbled after Sully to the truck.

They piled in the back, trying to make Elena as comfortable as possible on the metal flatbed and Chloe gunned the engine. Sully had barely registered her presence but he was glad to see her now. She gave him a grim nod as she shoved the truck into first gear and tore off down the track. He couldn't help but smile.  _Best damn driver in the business._

They made much faster progress on the way back to the village, though Sully winced at every bump and tight corner as Elena’s face tensed in pain, but even Chloe’s driving couldn’t rouse her from unconsciousness.

Nate sat beside her, holding on tight to her hand and whispering feverishly, “Come on Elena. Please don’t do this. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be fine.”

Sully watched as silent tears ran down the kid’s face. He felt as helpless as he had after Panama. After Sam. Seeing Nate like this - raw and broken - with no way to fix him. It was torture. For an irrational moment he couldn’t help but wonder if his desperate prayers to find the kid hadn’t come at a cost – if some cruel twist of fate hadn’t traded Elena’s life for Nate’s – and all of this was somehow his fault.

He shook the thought out of his head and joined the kid in his mantra, as though their words might help Elena find her way back to them. “Hang in there, kiddo,” he murmured, taking her other hand. “You’re stronger than this. Just hang on, we’re almost there.”

Nate choked on a sob as he looked up at Sully, and clamped a hand around his shoulder with a grip so tight it left fingerprint bruises.

Sully didn’t care. In one piece, or in pieces, he’d found them, and that was all that mattered.

 

* * *

 

Nate didn’t leave Elena’s side for much more than a minute.

Tenzin had them carry her to a large, circular building at the top of the village that had escaped Lazarevic’s attack unscathed. It was like an oasis after the endless snow - warm and dry, draped with red and purple tapestries, with the comforting smell of woodsmoke and herbs in the air. Tenzin directed them to a low bed in one corner, and the moment they set Elena down the Tibetan waved them back, silently taking control of the situation now that he was back on his home turf.

A little girl appeared in the doorway and ran to the man’s side, staring at Elena's body with wide-eyed worry. Tenzin pulled the girl close for a moment before muttering soft instructions in her ear. Between the two of them they quickly had a makeshift medical station set up, boiling water on a little stove and gathering an array of pots and potions and supplies while Nate and Sully stood a few paces back like a couple of fifth wheels.

Tenzin began carefully peeling back the blood-soaked shirt from Elena’s abdomen and Sully averted his eyes – partly out of respect for Elena and partly because it hurt to see her injuries; to imagine the pain she’d suffered. He’d seen shrapnel wounds before – seen the kind of death they caused – and it was never pretty...

 _But she's gonna be okay_ , he told himself. She _has to be._

Beside him, Nate seemed utterly lost. The kid swayed on his feet, watching Tenzin work with a tight, helpless expression on his face. Sully rested a hand on the kid's back and Nate flinched involuntarily, as if he was still in combat mode - his breathing was jerky and his shoulders were shaking. Sully squeezed his shoulder and felt the kid slump a little, leaning into his hand as though it was the only thing holding him upright.

Tenzin carefully tore Elena’s sleeve to get to the wounds on her arm and she let out a tight moan of pain, still not quite conscious, eyelids flickering. Nate darted to her side but the Tibetan pushed him back with a hand to his chest, speaking quickly and firmly. The kid shook his head in frustration, not understanding word, and the man sighed before repeating his orders to the little girl beside him.

She nodded obediently and tugged on Nate’s sleeve, pulling him up to his feet. He grunted at the sudden movement, reflexively covering his left side as he straightened up, and Sully frowned, wondering how much of the blood covering Nate’s shirt was his own. The kid limped after the little girl, following her to to the rear of the building where he dropped down to his knees before a carved wooden trunk full of folded fabrics. The girl pulled out a white sheet of material, made a tiny nick in one edge with a knife, and mimed a tearing gesture.

“Right. Bandages,” Nate murmured, and dutifully began ripping the sheet into strips. The little girl nodded enthusiastically and patted his arm before returning to her father.

Tenzin briefly looked over at the kid, then up at Sully, exchanging a knowing look that didn’t need a translation: _Keep an eye on him._

Sully jerked his chin in acknowledgement. He knew all too well how hard Nate pushed himself, using adrenaline to mask the pain. But now that they were safe - now there was nothing else to fight, nothing to run from - the shock and exhaustion were kicking in, and Sully could see the kid beginning to struggle. He joined Nate on the floor, grateful to Tenzin for giving the kid a mindless, menial task to keep him distracted, and began rolling up the strips into bandages in silent solidarity.

He cast a concerned eye over the kid as they worked, silently cataloguing his injuries. There was a raw-looking scrape on his brow, his lower lip was swollen and split, and bruises bloomed on his cheekbone and chin. His forearms were covered in scratches, his knuckles were bloody, and there was a ragged tear on the back of his shirt that looked like it had been caused by gigantic claws. But worst of all was the wound in the kid's left side, just above his hip – dark, dried bloodstains covered over with fresh scarlet blood flow.

Sully felt a lurch of sickness as the memory came slamming back to him. _Someone shot him. And he's been running around every since._

Nate caught him looking and shifted uncomfortably, but Sully set down the bandages and gestured to the injury. “Let me see,” he demanded quietly.

The kid shook his head, ripping off another ragged strip of fabric. “I’m fine," he grunted. "It can wait.” As if trying to prove his point, he clambered to his feet once more, gathering up the bandages in his arms, but he’d barely taken two steps before he stumbled, and the last of the colour in his face seemed to drain away. Sully was there to catch him, a firm hand wrapped around the kid’s bicep, but Nate shoved him off, determined to be a stubborn son of a bitch as usual.

“Goddamnit, Nate, sit down before you fall down,” Sully snapped as Nate staggered the rest of the way and dropped the bandages in Tenzin’s lap.

The Tibetan took one look at him and tutted sharply but didn’t pause in his work. Sully didn't blame him. Tenzin clearly already knew how much of an idiot the kid could be.

He watched as Nate leant against a pillar and slowly eased himself down to the floor beside Elena with a long, hissing wince, both arms wrapped around his stomach. The kid ignored Sully’s worried look and gave him a grimacing smile. “I’m _fine_ ,” he lied, eyes half closed with pain and exhaustion, head falling back against the pillar with a soft thud.

Sully sighed. "Sure you are."

Nate rolled his head to the side to keep Elena in his eyeline and reached out clumsily for her hand. “And I’m not going anywhere,” he said in a whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Search and rescue Sully! Tenzin saves the day! And just how stubborn can one Drake be? So much stubborn. I always spend the latter part of UC2 worrying that he's gonna bleed out after doing all that running around with a fresh gunshot wound. Suspension of disbelief is very much required, I guess. Anywho, it's all fine because it means I get to write about PAIN and SUFFERING which is really what I'm here for. 
> 
> Next up, Sully gets three different sides of the story because, oh my, he's missed so much...


	26. What They Left Out

Eventually, Sully got the full story – in pieces, just like them - from three different perspectives. Each tale was vastly different, filling in details the others had missed, and he quickly realised it was the parts they left out that were the most telling.

First up was Chloe.

She’d come knocking a little while after Tenzin began stitching Elena up, bearing a tray of steaming tea and a worried expression.

“Thought you guys could do with something…” she said, trailing off, her usual bravado entirely absent as her eyes took in the scene before her.

Elena was still out cold and Tenzin was busy with his needle and thread, a growing pile of blood-soaked rags surrounding him. Nate sat motionless on the floor, head bowed over the bed as if he was praying, one of Elena’s hands clutched to his chest. Sully had been helping as much as he could – fetching fresh water and bandages and trying to persuade the kid to at least let him take a proper look at his wounds – but he felt like a fifth wheel in the oppressive silence of the impromptu sick bay.

Chloe’s gaze lingered on Elena and her brow furrowed in sympathy. “How’s she doing?” she whispered to Sully.

“Stable, I think.” Her breathing was easier, at least, and while Tenzin rarely cracked a smile he didn’t seem to be overly concerned about her condition beyond getting her wounds cleaned and bandaged. The Tibetan seemed more than capable, and if the kid trusted him, that was good enough for Sully. “Not much we can do until she wakes up,” he added, trying not to imagine how much pain she would be in when she did.

Chloe nodded absently, “Well, that’s good.” She tried a smile but worry nagged at the corners of her lips. She looked wrung out, with the wild-eyed trace of trauma in her eyes – just like Nate.

_What the hell happened out there?_

The tray was beginning to shake in her hands and Sully carefully took it from her, laying it on the floor between Tenzin and the kid.

“How ‘bout we get a little air?” he suggested, nabbing a couple of cups of fragrant tea and herding her towards the door.

Sully knew Chloe was on a par with Nate when it came to burying down her emotions but he could tell she was shaken up. He risked a surreptitious glance sideways at her as they sat on the steps outside, sipping their tea in silence. Her grip on the cup was so tight her knuckles had gone white and she stared out at the mountains that surrounded them with a blank look. The serenity of the view seemed almost ridiculous in comparison to the carnage they’d just escaped. It had only been a few hours since he’d been preparing himself to find their corpses out there… He felt Chloe shiver a little beside him, as if she could read his thoughts.

“How you holdin’ up?” he asked her gently.

She blinked, as if she’d forgotten he was there, but her usual chipper façade quickly snapped into place. “Oh, you know…” she said, raising her cup in an ironic toast. “Didn’t die today, so that’s something.”

“Always a bonus,” he nodded appreciatively, and quietly echoed something Nate had said the last time they’d crossed paths with Chloe: “Sometimes just walking away is enough. _”_

She faltered at that, staring into the depths of her cup for a long moment. “I don’t know how you do it, Victor.”

“Do what?”

She jerked her chin at the door behind them. “Get him to listen to a word you say.”

Sully snorted. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but most of the time he doesn’t.”

Chloe didn’t smile. She seemed absorbed in thought, something like anger bubbling beneath the surface. Or guilt, perhaps. Sully paused, wondering how much Nate had told her about his misgivings, and decided to be honest.

“I told him not to go to Nepal, you know.”

She gave an unamused grunt at that but still didn’t reply.

Sully took a deep breath. _Well, if we’re being honest, might as well go the whole hog…_ “I _also_ told him not to trust you,” he said.

Chloe’s jaw tensed but she nodded slowly, still staring straight ahead at the view, though Sully suspected she wasn’t really looking at it.

“Fair enough,” she said quietly.

If he didn’t know her better he’d have thought there were tears in her eyes.

“I’m pretty sure I was wrong, though,” he added. “About you, I mean.”

He meant it, too. He still didn’t know what had gone on out there, but she was here now, which had to count for something.

Chloe gave a weak smile and kicked at a loose pebble, watching it tumble down the stairs. “I never asked him to come after me, you know.”

“Yeah, well, that’s Nate for you.”

She swallowed hard, as if there was a lump in her throat. “And I never meant for him to get hurt. Or Elena.”

Sully nodded slowly. He believed her. But there was still one niggling question in the back of his mind. He didn’t want to ask it but he had to know…

“Just tell me you weren’t the one that shot him.”

Her head snapped up at that, and she fixed him with a shocked, furious glare.

He held up his hands in defence. “Alright, alright, I’ll take that as a no. But I’m kinda flying blind here, kiddo. You wanna fill me in on what the hell happened out there?”

She gave a shrug. “I mean, I don’t know _all_ of it…”

“Just- Start with Nepal…”

 

***

 

When he went back inside, Nate was sitting propped up against the pillar, shirt pulled up to his chest, having his stitches fixed by Tenzin. Sully paused at the sight of the gunshot wound. It made his breath hitch; made his skin crawl; made him want to smash things. He’d mopped up his fair share of the kid’s blood. And it wasn’t as if he’d never seen him take a bullet. But they were always flesh wounds, narrow escapes, glancing shots that could be sewn up with a few stitches and added to his list of scars. This one was different… This one could have killed him. Should have, really. And Sully hadn’t been there.

He loitered a few paces away, feeling his stomach churn at the sight of the kid’s blood. He’d seen enough of it to last him a lifetime.

Pinned down by Tenzin’s ministrations, Nate sucked in air through his teeth, his face screwed up in discomfort, but still attempted a grin when he saw Sully. “Hey… You wanna try some of Tenzin’s moonshine?” he asked in a strained voice. “It’s awful. You’d like it.”

Sully peered at the cup in Nate’s hand and raised an eyebrow. “I can smell it from here. I’ll stick to tea, thanks.” 

The kid stifled a yelp of pain as Tenzin tried to manoeuvre him around so he could get a better angle. Sully leapt in to help, kneeling down and wrapping the kid’s arm around his shoulder. Nate leant into him, gritting his teeth as Tenzin replaced the broken stitches with a tut of disapproval. The kid’s fingers dug bruises into Sully’s bicep and every fresh stitch forced a little grunt out of his throat.

“Easy now,” Sully murmured. He could feel the high-speed thud of the kid’s heart. It was comforting, in a way, even though he hated to see Nate in pain. At least it meant he was alive. For a moment Sully appreciated that fact, and the warmth of the arm around his shoulder. The kid smelled of gunpowder and earth and sweat and blood.

“You are one lucky son of a bitch, you know that?” he said quietly.

Nate attempted a laugh but instantly regretted it as his stomach tensed and Tenzin cursed in Tibetan at him, pulling the final stitch tight.

“Yeah, well. Remind me never to get shot again.” 

Sully gave him a look that could have stripped paint off a wall. “Chloe told me what happened.”

Nate had the decency to look just a little sheepish. “You wanna say ‘ _I told you so_ ’, I won’t mind.”

Sully shook his head wearily. “Wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference, would it?”

“Probably not.”

Tenzin finished wrapped a fresh bandage around Nate’s middle and sat back to admire his handiwork, gesturing at Nate’s cup with an insistent command of “ _Thung_.”

The kid obediently drained his drink, grimacing at the taste, and Tenzin gave a nod of approval before leaving them to it.

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, until Sully asked the question that had been bugging him ever since his conversation with Chloe. “How the hell d’you get out of that train wreck, anyway?”

Nate frowned at the memory. “Dumb luck?”

“Well, you’ve got plenty of that.”

Dumb luck was just about right. Or maybe there was something up there looking over the kid. Sully didn’t much care, so long as it kept him alive.

He let Nate talk, filling in the parts of the story Chloe didn’t know. About waking up covered in his own blood, hanging off the edge of a cliff. About stumbling through the snow, wondering which would kill him first – the cold or the gunshot. Sully felt his own pulse rising as he imagined how scared, how lost the kid must have been. How close to death he’d really come.

The sun began to dip below the windowsill, but neither of them had the energy to move. They sat there, leaning against one another, as the kid mustered the strength to finish the story. When he reached the part about Flynn – the grenade, Elena reaching out to him - he broke off, as if he couldn’t bring himself to relive it.

Nate’s brow furrowed as he stared down at Elena’s sleeping face. 

“I was ready to give it all up. After this-” he said, gesturing to his freshly stitched side. “But she… She couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t let Lazarevic win. Trying to save the world…”

Sully could believe that. As much as he thought Elena was the best thing to happen to Nate in a long time, he had to admit she had her own particular brand of foolhardy heroism to worry about. But maybe there was a balance there, somewhere. Maybe they’d give each other a reason to be more careful.

“You know, Chloe pretty much carried her out of there,” Nate said, a slight slur to his voice now – whatever was in that drink seemed to be making him groggy.

Sully blinked in surprise. Chloe hadn’t mentioned that part. Perhaps she hadn’t wanted her act of decency to ruin her reputation. He was about to say so when he caught sight of Nate’s face.

“I thought I’d lost her, Sully,” the kid said, in a horribly flat voice.

And as he watched the kid fight back a fresh round of tears, Sully heard an echo of Carolina’s words in his head: _Maybe you needed a little fear in your life. To show you there’s something worth losing._

He didn’t say it out loud. Nate would have to figure that one out himself. And the kid was starting to slip – a combination of Tenzin’s medicinal moonshine and the exhaustion taking him under. Sully caught the cup before it tumbled out of his hand and made him a makeshift bed on the floor beside Elena, ignoring Nate’s protestations that he needed to stay awake, to be there when she woke up.

“You _need_ to sleep,” Sully insisted. “I’ll keep an eye on her. I promise.”

Nate tried to nod but even that was too much effort. He managed half a smile instead. “M’glad you’re here, Sul…” he mumbled, eyes sliding shut, and he was out.

Sully rested a hand on the kid’s chest, reassured by the steady beat of his heart and the rise and fall of his breath. He was okay. He was here. He was alive. And Sully was never going to let him out of his sight again.

 

***

 

He had no idea how long he sat up beside Nate and Elena. Tenzin stopped by a couple of times to check on his patients, to light the lamps, and bring Sully some food, but it must have been late into the night when Elena finally stirred.

And Sully was there, ready with a low, comforting word, and a firm hand on her shoulder, stopping her from trying to sit up in a panic. “Woah there, you’re okay. You’re safe.”

She was groggy, and confused, and it took her a while to focus on him. “Sully?”

“Good to have you back, darlin’.”

Fear flashed in her eyes for a moment and she looked around the dark room as if she was expecting armed thugs to burst through the door. “Lazarevic! Did he-”

“Nate stopped him,” Sully cut in quickly. “It’s over.”

She sank back against the pillow with a shaky sigh.

Sully gestured to the kid, still passed out on the floor beside the bed, and she let out a sad little “Oh Nate…” when she saw him.

“He didn’t want to leave your side,” Sully told her. “Wanted to be here when you woke up.”

She smiled at that. A quiet, private, glowing smile that seemed to light her up from the inside. “Let him sleep,” she said. “He’s had a rough couple of days.”

 _That’s putting it lightly._ Sully raised an eyebrow. “So have you, it seems.”

She hissed in a breath of pain and let it out slowly as she eased herself up into a semi-sitting position, checking out her mummified torso with morbid curiosity. “Yeah. I mean. _Ow_ ,” she said, in the flat, sardonic tone that always made Sully laugh.

“I’ll bet. Here, drink this.”

He helped her take a few sips of water, chased with Tenzin’s moonshine and her eyes widened. “Wow, that is… Something.”

“Uh huh. It’ll knock you right back out again if that’s what you want.”

She declined the cup with a short laugh, “No, I think I’m good. How long was I out?”

“Couple hours? You gave us all a hell of a shock there, sweetheart.”

She squeezed his hand, and her eyes were bright in the darkness as they sought him out. “I can’t believe you’re here... How did you find us?”

Sully took a breath and began his own story, patchworked with what he’d been told by Chloe and Nate, and letting Elena supply the rest. And piece by piece the tale became complete.

Each of them had their own way of telling things. Chloe was straight to the point, with as few details as possible so as not to accidentally incriminate herself. Nate jumped from thought to thought, occasionally derailed by some tangential detail that demanded his attention. But Elena was a professional storyteller. It’s what she did. And Sully found himself holding his breath as she talked in that low, gentle drawl of hers, unearthing all the things the others had failed to mention, like Nate all but carrying Elena’s injured camera guy half way through the city... The memories were still raw and her eyes filled with tears as she told him about the brutality of Lazarevic; about finding the train wreckage; about her own desperate search through the snow; about Tenzin finding Nate half-frozen – that stupid dagger key still clutched in his hands; about convincing him to keep going after Lazarevic even though he didn’t want to…

“I pushed him into it. I know I did. But we couldn’t just give up,” she said defensively, as she caught sight of Sully’s incredulous expression. “This was bigger than us. This was… El Dorado all over again.”

Sully had to fight to keep from raising his voice, so as not to wake Nate, and settled for a hissed whisper instead. “And you both nearly goddamn died then, too!”

She looked down at Nate’s sleeping face with a sad little smile. “He said: ‘Everything I touch turns to shit.’ Like he has no idea of what _good_ he could do.”

That one hurt. Sully tried not to take it personally but he couldn’t help but blame himself. He’d never given the kid any aspirations beyond getting away with the perfect crime. He’d raised him in a world of lowlifes and criminals and thieves and backstabbers and assholes. Sure, they had their own moral code but Sully had never been interested in being a hero. That kind of thing only got you killed. And all he’d tried to do all these years was keep the kid alive. He hadn’t even considered that there might be another way. That they might do some good in this world. 

Elena reached down to stroke Nate’s forehead. The kid let out a murmur in his sleep and turned towards her hand.

“Well," he said softly, "Maybe you can show him."

 

***

 

There was just one more piece of the puzzle to fall into place - one that no one was talking about - and Sully found himself coming full circle, back where he started, with Chloe.

Elena was up and about, impatient with being confined to her bed - possibly even a worse patient than Nate was – and Sully had left the two of them walking a slow circle around the village square.

He’d seen Nate and Chloe talking at the shrine; could sense the awkward conversation from twenty feet away. The giant goddamn elephant in the room. At least they were finally facing up to it. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t glad that Nate had chosen Elena, but his heart went out to Chloe all the same. He’d seen how worried she was about the kid - about Elena – and pushed her own feelings aside when she’d seen how much the two of them cared about each other. He respected that. It couldn't have been easy. And he figured she could do with a friend right now.

He caught up with her at the edge of the village, leaning on a painted fence, staring down at the sheer drop below.

“It’s times like this I wished I smoked,” she said with a wan smile.

Sully patted himself down out of habit. “Sorry. Left my cigars back home. Was in kind of a rush…”

She turned to skewer him with a searching look. “You dropped _everything_ to come save him, didn’t you? Without a second thought.”

He shrugged. “Only wish I’d got here sooner.”

She rolled her eyes. “Now I know where he gets it from. Bloody hero complex.”

Sully snorted. “Or maybe I got it from him.”

“Maybe,” she pondered. “He does have that effect on people. It’s _so_ irritating.”

“You got that part right."

Her smile faded just a little bit as another thought occurred to her. “Elena’s got it, too. They make a good match.”

Sully didn’t know what to say. She didn’t sound angry, or jealous, or even that sad – just… thoughtful. He nodded in agreement. “I think so too.”

“I mean…” she added, with a roguish grin, “They’re gonna drive each other crazy, right? But in theory – a good match.”

He barked out a laugh, but when he looked back at her there was a tightness around her eyes, as if her smile was just a little forced.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out between you two,” he said.

It was her turn to laugh. “Oh, come on, Victor,” she deflected, “It was never gonna last. He’s too earnest for me. I’d have got bored. Or he’d get himself into some stupid situation and I’d be out of there. It’s better this way. Really.”

Sully nodded slowly. He could hear her trying to convince herself and knew she needed him to play along. “So… Just out of interest…" he said coyly. "You wouldn’t consider a slightly… older gentlemen? Little less earnest. Certainly not boring. And very particular about the stupid situations he finds himself in.”

At this, she cracked a genuine smirk as she leaned against his shoulder. “Oh honey… You are _way_ out of my league.”  

“Yeah, I thought so,” he said mock-resignedly. “I guess I just felt sorry for you is all.”

She smacked him on the arm, then looped it through hers and led him back up the steps to the shrine where Nate and Elena were busy bickering.

“See?” Chloe said, “Perfect for one another.”

Sully raised an eyebrow as Elena’s voice reached soprano pitch, yelling something about clowns. “Well, it’s certainly gonna be interesting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell this took me forever. Sorry for anyone who's been waiting for an update. I got sucker-punched by the flu and have been out of action for two weeks, and then this chapter just point blank refused to write itself. It ain't perfect, but it's something. I wanted to explore a little of the aftermath in Tibet and got thinking about how none of them really had the full story. 
> 
> And as for those who were wondering about Sully and Chloe... Here is my head canon, in line with the Sully that I've been building up over the last 80,000 words(!). I kinda wish I'd written him as more of a womaniser (just for funsies) but hey, what is fanfic for if you can't subvert a few tropes, eh? I really do think he's a big ol' softie at heart, and while he's out there for a good time when he can get it, I don't believe he would have gone after Chloe in all seriousness. After everything that's happened between them all, I have to imagine he'd be more worried about her being broken hearted. And besides, he has Carolina to come home to... ;) 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed. I guess this means we're venturing into the no-man's-land between UC2 and UC3. Time to destroy a marriage and dredge up some tragic backstory. I have some ideas but it may take me a while to articulate them, so hold onto your pants. I will be back, I promise.


End file.
